


the musical chords of you & i

by markleegalaxies



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Nicknames, Roommates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, hendery & xiaojun are best friends, hendery loves xiaojun’s voice so much ohmy, hendery plays the drums, please enjoy haha, this fic is my literal baby i haven’t been this proud of something in a long time, writing in blondery because i miss him, xiaojun plays the guitar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markleegalaxies/pseuds/markleegalaxies
Summary: “You’re always dating all these shitty people, Dejun. They don’t treat you right, and I’m just saying that I’d never treat you like that, if we were dating. You’re amazing, you’re beautiful, you’re so wonderful. I’d love you the way you deserve to be loved if you just—”Guanheng cuts himself off when he realizes what he was about to say.—just gave me the chance.
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 26
Kudos: 154





	the musical chords of you & i

It feels like it’s been the longest day of his life when Guanheng unlocks the door to his shared apartment, stepping into the threshold and toeing his shoes off before doing anything else. The shoes were uncomfortable, barely worn in, and too shiny. But they had to be worn today seeing as he had a huge presentation to deliver. 

It’s quiet as he hangs his coat up and puts his keys away, which is welcome after such a tiring first half of the day. The slippers he puts onto his feet feel like walking on clouds now, and he relishes in the softness and comfort as he trudges his way to the kitchen, happily tossing his blazer onto the living room couch as he passes by. 

He can always pick it up to hang later. If he doesn’t forget about it, that is. 

Guanheng washes his hands, then opens the fridge and debates very shortly between the few slices of cold pizza, and the takeout Yukhei has left in the fridge for probably three days now. 

_ Cold pizza it is,  _ he decides, taking out the box and not even bothering to heat it up in the microwave before taking a bite, that actually ends up being half of the slice. 

He sits at the kitchen table, happily eats what can be considered his dinner, and thinks about the nice shower he’s going to have when he’s done eating. Scalding hot water which will wash away all of the stress he’s been feeling all day—

And then Yukhei barges in, effectively shattering his daydreams. 

Normally, he’s excited whenever any of his roommates are back for the day, since that means he wouldn’t be bored anymore. Today though, he’d been looking forward to the quiet time. But that’s what he gets for choosing to be roommates with his best friends, so he can’t really complain. 

“Hey,” Yukhei smiles, his large hand waving at Guanheng as he walks into the kitchen as well, fetching himself a glass of cold water. The sight of him drinking the water makes Guanheng want some too, but he’s too lazy to get up and get any. “Why do you look like… Death?”

“Don't ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he grunts, taking Yukhei’s half empty glass of water when he sits down and drinking the rest of it. It has the taller boy complaining beside him, but he honestly doesn’t care too much about that. “Where’s Mark? And Dejun?” 

Mark and Dejun are their two other roommates, because they’re all foreigners who can’t afford places on their own, and good friends. Guanheng had met Mark in his freshmen year two years ago when he and Yukhei got close over a class project, and he had been integrated into their friend group since. 

Additionally, Guanheng has known Dejun since the beginning of time, which actually just translates to since they were in elementary school, but that’s still a really long time! Dejun is the best friend Guanheng could ever have, which is why they go to the same school in a different country, and why they’re sharing one room in the apartment, while Mark and Yukhei share the other. 

“Mark said he’d be back late from a study group,” Yukhei informs, getting up again to refill his glass of water. This time, he grabs Guanheng a glass of water too. “Dejun… I dunno, didn’t he say he had a date or something?” 

Ah.

Yukhei is right. Dejun  _ did  _ say that he was going on a date. Guanheng probably wasn’t listening because he hates it when Dejun goes on dates. 

Now, don’t take it the wrong way. Guanheng loves Dejun to the ends of the earth, they’re best friends for a reason, and have been for so long, for a reason. He wants nothing more than for Dejun to be happy, but the problem is that going on these dates  _ isn't  _ making him happy. 

Guanheng doesn’t know what it is about Dejun that makes him attract so many shitty guys, but ever since he’s been experimenting in the college dating scene, all he’s found were douchey dudes. Guanheng is seriously starting to wonder where he’s able to find that many people who are that scummy. 

“Yeah, he did,” he sighs, grabbing the last slice of sad, cold pizza and finishing it. “Well, I’m gonna go use all the hot water now,” he announces, getting up from the table and tossing the box into the sink, half assedly telling himself he’ll wash it later. He probably won't though. 

“Bold of you to assume Mark didn’t already,” Yukhei snorts, referring to how Mark always takes very long showers every morning. “But good luck with that. If you hear screaming, it’s me yelling at the TV while playing Mario Kart.”

Guanheng isn’t surprised, that is how Yukhei has been spending a lot of nights recently, and just goes into his room to grab clean clothes and a towel. He’s thankful he doesn’t really have to be conscious of anybody else waiting for the shower, since Dejun and Mark are going to be home late, and Yukhei is going to be very occupied with Mario Kart for a while. 

He loses track of time once he’s under the relaxing, warm spray of the water, and he lets himself just stand there, feeling calm. 

It feels nice washing away all of his tense lines of his muscles and stress grime, no matter how metaphorical the latter part is. 

He continues to take his time as he does his skincare, and then decides to blow dry his hair for the heck of it. He might as well go all out, since there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of self care. 

When he steps out of the bathroom and into his bedroom once more, there’s already someone waiting for him on his bed. 

Guanheng grins, and throws himself onto his bed, careful not to squish the tiny body waiting for him.

“Leon!” he cheers happily, placing loud smooches onto his tiny head. 

Leon is pliant, a way more pliant kitty than Louis is, and he doesn’t scurry off as Guanheng cuddles up next to him, rubbing their faces together, and stroking his fur. 

Dejun was absolutely correct when he said they should invest into therapy cats. Leon and Louis bring them both an unimaginable amount of happiness whenever they’re around. 

Guanheng debates whether he should get up and be productive—since there’s an impending quiz coming up within the next few days, and an essay due date looming over his head—but he decides against it when Leon purrs and snuggles up closer into his chest. 

He can forego one night of work if he overcompensates the next day. And the next day is a Friday, so he has all the time in the world! 

Or maybe he’s just making excuses because he feels really warm right now, and Leon is really comfortable. Whatever the reason is, his final decision is that he’s not going to be leaving his bed anytime soon. 

Guanheng is almost asleep, very close to letting his heavy eyelids have their way and reduce him to the state of a peaceful slumber with Leon tucked in with him, when his stomach makes a sound comparable to that of a whale. 

Now that he thinks about it, he’s  _ starving _ , the pizza apparently not having been enough. But he truly doesn’t want to get up and out of this warmth. He contemplates if napping on an empty stomach is worth it, but when his stomach rumbles again, he whines pathetically to himself. 

It seems like he’ll have to leave Leon, and he groans again. He’s glad no one is around to judge him for taking his frustrations out on nothing but the air around him. 

Yukhei is still at it with Mario Kart when he’s reached the living room, and Guanheng knows that if he hasn’t started screaming at the TV yet, he’s going to start really soon. He works quickly in the kitchen because of that, and tries to get his cereal and milk in his bowl before Yukhei starts yelling like he could actually get an answer back if he tries hard enough. 

Guanheng walks back into his room with a large bowl and spoon, and makes sure to close the door so that at least Yukhei’s aggression will be muffled. Leon is still curled up on his bed, and Guanheng smiles at the cute little cat before sitting down at his desk, and shovelling cereal into his mouth. 

He scrolls through a few social media apps on his phone to keep himself from falling face first into his food when drowsiness starts to crawl up and around his system again, and it works effectively enough. 

Guanheng is watching a cat compilation on his Instagram explore page when his bedroom door bursts open, and the loud sound is so startling that it causes him to swallow down the wrong hole, and he starts choking. 

“You said I could kill someone if I wanted to, right?” Dejun asks without so much as a ‘hello’, his words rushed and his eyes narrowed when Guanheng looks up at him through his heaving. 

Dejun doesn’t even wait for an answer before he’s snatching Guanheng’s cereal bowl out of his hands angrily, shovelling a couple spoonfuls into his mouth immediately. He chews aggressively and looks at Guanheng impatiently, waiting for his answer. 

“I said—” Guanheng wheezes, voice a bit raspy from all his coughing. Dejun, in true Dejun fashion, doesn’t pay his suffering much mind at all. “I said you could kill someone with only your eyes. It was when you were angry last week because Mark ate the last slice of bread.”

Dejun seems to only glare more at the mention of the unfortunate event, and Guanheng briefly wonders how much more he can go before his eyes completely disappear. He’s still eating Guanheng’s cereal, and the latter sighs, accepting the loss of his snack. At least he’d managed to eat half of it before Dejun stole it. 

“Well, someone better get ready to die then,” Dejun grumbles, plopping himself down onto Guanheng’s bed, facing said owner, and sighing. No more does he look angry, but defeated instead. “I hate boys.”

Guanheng internally sighs, and he sits up straighter in his desk chair. He can mourn the loss of his snack later—right now, he needs to help Dejun mourn the loss of yet another potential significant other. 

“I hate them too,” he consoles, pushing himself forward just a bit more on the wheels of his chair, bridging the distance between them. “What’d he do this time? I’m surprised you haven’t gone through every type of douche there is on campus yet.”

He means it lightheartedly, and Dejun knows that. It’s one of the ways Guanheng knows he can ease the weight in his heart and his mind, and it works every time. Humour was always his strong suit anyways, and it’s proven yet again when a small smile makes its way onto Dejun’s lips.

Dejun is staring at the cereal bowl in his lap, moving a few remnant soggy pieces around in the milk. After a few seconds of silence, the smile slips off of his face until he looks upset again, and he sighs.

“The first thing he said was that if we were going to date, that we had to keep it a secret,” Dejun says quietly, the only sounds in their room coming from the metal spoon hitting the coral bowl every so often, and Louis now accompanying Leon in pattering around. “He said he didn’t want his friends to know he likes guys, and he said he wasn’t ready to tell them yet. I got—honestly, I got really upset. Was that wrong? I don’t want to be someone’s secret.”

Guanheng frowns at Dejun’s words, and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to find the words to help comfort his best friend, and make him feel better. He’s not too good when it comes to words, always resorting to actions, but when it’s for Dejun, he’s willing to try everything. Even if it doesn’t make any sense at first, Dejun is a kind and patient person. He also knows Guanheng like the back of his hand, so he’ll be able to piece together what he’s saying, no matter how butchered it is. 

“I don’t think anyone wants to be in that position,” he starts, lightly knocking their knees together in an attempt to get Dejun to look at him. They may be best friends, and may have been for life, but Dejun is always extremely shy when it comes to his feelings, and when it comes to talking about his romantic endeavours, especially when they end sourly. “And it’s not even like you’ve known the dude for some time. That was a big sacrifice to ask for on the first date.”

“But was I being insensitive? It can’t be easy… Maybe he was going through a lot,” Dejun argues gently, but Guanheng can hear the frustration start bleeding into his tone. 

“If he was, then he shouldn’t have been looking for a relationship yet. Listen, you just met him, you don’t owe him anything,” Guanheng comforts, putting a hand on Dejun’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. He was probably below your standards anyways,” he teases, and it successfully puts the smile back onto Dejun’s face. 

“Shut up, he was cute,” he chuckles, finally looking up from the cereal bowl. “You gonna finish this?” Dejun holds the bowl up, and Guanheng rolls his eyes. 

“Nah, you seem like you need the emotional support cereal more than I do,” he waves off, and it makes Dejun laugh again before he brings the bowl up to his lips and drains it of the sweetened milk, courtesy of all the sugar in the cereal. “By the way, was Yukhei still screaming at the TV when you came home?”

“Mhm,” Dejun answers, swallowing the contents in his mouth before handing the bowl back to Guanheng, who rolls his eyes again before taking it and placing it onto his desk for later. “I think it’s cute how he gets sucked into Mario Kart.”

“You think everything is cute,” Guanheng tsks, and it’s then that Louis happens to hop onto his bed, and right into Dejun’s lap. 

“Louis,” Dejun coos, scooping the cat up in his arms and smothering his head with little pecks and obnoxious smooches. “I missed you today, pretty kitty,” he continues, in that baby voice which Guanheng hates to the ends of the earth. Dejun always uses it anyways. 

“How about me?” he tries, leaning forward and knocking Dejun’s hands out from in front of his face, and putting his own head in front of Dejun’s eyes. “Missed me?” Guanheng bats his eyelashes for brownie points. 

“I always miss you the least,” Dejun deadpans, using Guanheng’s dejected state to shove Louis back into his main field of vision. “And your snoring. God knows I could do without your snoring.”

“I don’t even snore!” Guanheng defends, scowling when Dejun only fixes him with a look. “I don’t!” 

“Sure,” Dejun agrees, but it’s very obvious he’s only doing so to appease Guanheng. The latter would argue about it now, if Dejun didn’t get up from his bed, gently placing Louis down on the floor in the process. “I’m gonna shower now. What do you want for dinner?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. Ask Yukhei,” he answers, swivelling around in his chair again and watching Dejun pick out clean pyjamas. He pulls out a sleeveless shirt, one of many that he cut himself. 

Guanheng says that if he keeps doing that, he’ll end up with no more normal t-shirts. Dejun says it isn’t a big deal, since his arms deserve to see the light of day. Once again, Guanheng says he’ll freeze to death in the winter. Dejun has yet to come up with an excuse against that one. 

“ _ You  _ ask Yukhei, I don’t wanna get involved in any of that,” Dejun counters, opening the top drawer of his bedside table. He fishes around for a while until he pulls out his contact lense box, and his wire framed glasses. “And place the order once you’ve figured it out, I’m starving.” 

“Same, since  _ someone  _ decided to eat my cereal,” Guanheng agrees loudly, and Dejun rolls his eyes with a tiny smile on his lips. “Also, showering is a rookie excuse to get out of paying for dinner.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Dejun says innocently, almost sounding offended that Guanheng even thinks that. “I just suffered from a terrible date, so make me feel better with free food.” He pouts for extra measure. Guanheng thinks he’s ridiculous. 

“Assholes seem to find you wherever you go,” Guanheng starts, equally as innocent as Dejun. He widens his eyes for extra measure. He hopes Dejun thinks he’s ridiculous too. “I can’t feed you for your whole life.” 

“Fuck you,” Dejun glares, stomping out of their bedroom with his clothes, glasses, and towel in tow. “I hope a spider falls into your mouth when you’re sleeping.”

“Why would my mouth be open when I’m sleeping?” Guanheng asks confusedly.

“Because you snore!” Dejun answers from down the hall.

“I don’t snore!” 

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

And then, from the living room,

“ _ Fuck  _ Rainbow Road!”

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


The next week goes by the same way every other week goes by: gruellingly. Guanheng’s stress levels reach an all time high, and he blames it on midterm season, which is terrible no matter how many seasons of it you’ve experienced in the past. 

He also blames it on Dejun preferring to spend all his free time in the library instead of at home. 

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Dejun was free to study wherever he learned the best. But for Guanheng, not having his personal music maker around (no matter how much Dejun tells him not to call him that) means he has no way of relaxing. 

Which sounds dramatic, and in all honesty it kind of is, but that’s what being a student does to you. And what being Dejun’s best friend does to you. He’s a bit spoiled, honestly. 

Dejun has a guitar in their room, one that he got in middle school and still has in pristine condition to this day. And it’s not even like he doesn’t play: Dejun plays his guitar all the time. Music is a hobby of his which he’s passionate about, and as his best friend, Guanheng gets the perks of listening to him strum the instrument whenever he has free time. Or when he has a creative spark. Those are the best. 

Dejun’s guitar playing is an outlet for them both: Dejun plays, and Guanheng falls victim to the soothing music. Now though, Guanheng is stuck with instrumentals on Spotify, which, honestly speaking, just don’t compare to the real deal. 

It’s another Thursday, when Guanheng is struggling to keep his eyes open, still at his desk. Except this time, he’s scribbling down answers to math equations, and simultaneously asking himself why he thought taking a math class would be fun. It’s the farthest thing from it—but it seems he’s stuck here now. 

The only sounds in his room are the scratches of his pencil against the paper of his workbook, along with the music running through his ears via the bluetooth speaker he rarely uses. He doesn’t feel guilty using it this time because Dejun is gone, and the only other person at home is Mark. But he’s in the shower, and so Guanheng isn’t worried about irritating him. 

He’s started his last page of revision when he hears footsteps from outside of his open bedroom door, and since he can also hear the shower water still running, it must be either Yukhei or Dejun. 

And thankfully, it’s Dejun.

“You’re home!” Guanheng cries, immediately slamming his pencil down, not even paying mind to if the tip broke. He can sharpen his pencil—but he can’t take anymore of this suffocating feeling. “Where have you been? Why did you leave me here? Do you know how much I’m suffering?”

His friends have always asked Guanheng why he pursued business instead of something like the dramatic arts, and most times he doesn’t know why they even think that. Now, however, he sees it just a tiny bit. But he’d never show this side to anyone other than his best friend anyways. 

“You could’ve come with me?” Dejun reminds him confusedly, dropping his bag near the foot of his bed, and taking his jacket off to put it over the back of his own desk chair. “I wasn’t stopping you.” 

“You know I don’t like the noise.”

“It’s a library?”

“It’s still  _ noisy _ ,” Guanheng insists, and Dejun relents, deciding not to fight it anymore. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll lose that argument anyways. Guanheng can be  _ very  _ stubborn when he wants to be. “Now, come sit.”

Guanheng has moved onto his bed, sitting with his legs crossed and his back against the headboard. He pats the space in front of him, and smiles at Dejun. 

“And do what?” Dejun asks, turning around briefly just to change out of his outside clothes. It was chilly outside because of the early November weather, but he was almost sweltering under his thick clothes inside of the apartment. 

Guanheng would look away, if he hadn’t seen, well,  _ all _ of Dejun before. There’s nothing to hide when it comes to the two of them, not after going through puberty together. Guanheng believes that if they could stick together through that, they can stick together through everything. 

Dejun exchanges his turtleneck and wool sweater for a simple t-shirt, and his sweatpants for pyjama pants. The air hitting his skin is refreshing, and when he turns back around to face Guanheng after putting his clothes away, the latter is eyeing his guitar. 

Dejun has it propped up under the window, a multitude of stickers that he’s accumulated over the years being stuck on in various places along the body. Some of them are faded, while others are losing colour from being rubbed against. They’re still sentimental though, so Dejun doesn’t even entertain the idea of removing or replacing them. 

“A song?” Dejun asks, and he sighs heavily when Guanheng nods his head like an overeager puppy. He doesn’t actually mind—he just finds teasing Guanheng fun. 

It’s for that reason that he makes a show of sluggishly dragging himself to his guitar, and then joining Guanheng on his bed, face to face. 

“Any requests?” he asks, tuning his strings a bit and positioning the instrument comfortably between his arms. When he looks up from under his eyelashes, Guanheng is sitting back against the headboard, eyes closed, with a happy grin on his face. 

“Anything.”

It’s quiet after that, save for how Dejun plays around with his chords. There are a few familiar melodies he shifts between before settling on one which they both know. 

It’s some Bruno Mars song about rain, Guanheng can’t remember the title for the life of him. All he remembers is that every time Dejun plays this song, he sings along, and in those moments, Guanheng feels the most serene. 

Dejun’s voice… It was something else entirely which Guanheng could probably write his college thesis on. There was just so much to talk about when it came to his voice—the range, the pitch, the way his voice sounds like the gates of Heaven…

Dejun starts singing, and Guanheng lets his voice take him over completely. 

The song is in English, and Dejun sings with the cutest accent. He’s better at English than Guanheng is, but the latter still finds it endearing whenever Dejun practices his English, or whenever he mutters lyrics to English songs under his breath. 

Just like this, with the four walls of their bedroom keeping them in their own world away from reality, Guanheng is content. Dejun in front of him, guitar in hand, and voice bouncing off the walls. 

Sometimes, Guanheng thinks he doesn’t need more than this. Arguably, most times. 

The music from Dejun’s guitar fades into silence, but the peacefulness Guanheng felt for those two minutes is something he doesn’t want to give up yet. So he doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Hey now,” Dejun chuckles, with the same honey-like voice he uses for singing. Was Dejun’s normal talking voice also always this soothing? “Don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“I’m not sleeping,” Guanheng mutters, eyes still closed and words a bit slurred. He can’t help it though, Dejun’s voice accompanied with his guitar, paired with the comfort of his bed, is absolutely deadly. “My eyes are resting.”

Guanheng hears that Dejun only hums, before music from his guitar floods the silence once more. 

Guanheng expects another ballad, or something to lull him back into his most calm state, but instead he hears Dejun start playing an upbeat song. 

“Not that one,” he mumbles, adamant on keeping his eyes shut. Dejun doesn’t seem to hear him though, as he keeps playing. “Slower, slower. Sing me a song,” he continues, whining this time. 

Like usual, his persistence (or was it whininess? Guanheng isn’t ashamed to admit it) catches Dejun’s attention. 

“You’re so ungrateful,” Dejun tsks, mindlessly strumming some unfamiliar tune. 

“Sing for me,” Guanheng insists, eyes still closed as he pushes one leg out so that his socked foot can meet Dejun’s exposed thigh. He might bruise; since Dejun bruises extremely easily, but Guanheng is stubborn like that. “Like a lullaby Jun, c’mon.”

“You’re so annoying,” Dejun groans, shuffling around and trying to dodge Guanheng’s foot. But the latter is insistent, and keeps swinging his leg around until he makes contact with some part of Dejun’s body. “Heng! Stop that!” 

Guanheng doesn’t listen, he normally never does, but when Dejun yelps, he forces himself to crack an eye open.

And he’s glad he did, because in a split second, he sees that Dejun is about to fall off of his bed. His movements are hasty and his limbs are lanky when he extends a hand out to grab Dejun’s arm, pulling him back onto the bed before his face could kiss the floor. 

“I hate you,” Dejun groans when he’s sitting up straight again, sending Guanheng a glare before leaning his guitar against the wall, a safe distance away from the both of them. “No more songs for you.”

“But your songs are what take my pain away,” Guanheng complains dramatically, his hand still not unwrapping itself from Dejun’s arm. Were the workout sessions he’s been accompanying Yukhei on actually working? Or was it the boxing classes they go to together? Guanheng swears Dejun’s bicep didn’t feel like this a month ago… 

“Take some of Mark’s melatonin, I don’t know,” the older boy huffs, and then some when Guanheng pulls him closer, nearly knocking Dejun off the bed once again. “What now? What do you want?”

“Be my teddy bear,” Guanheng says easily, already laying down on his bed, slipping into the covers and pulling Dejun down with him with the grip he still has around his arm. “Just like we did in high school.”

“First of all, we only did that in high school because you insisted on coming over at night just to play with my dog,” Dejun scowls, but he lets Guanheng shove him under the covers nonetheless. At the sudden mention, Guanheng misses Bella. “And secondly, at least in high school we had queen sized beds! What do I do here? Listen to your snores up close?” 

“I don’t snore Dejun!”

“Do you want a recording? Yukhei and Mark can vouch for—!” Dejun argues, but the last of his words get muffled when Guanheng slaps a hand over his mouth. 

Dejun glares at him, unable to speak coherently. 

“Enough talking, little Dejun,” Guanheng says, like he was talking to a three year old, and mispronouncing his last name on  _ purpose _ so that he was calling him little. All of Dejun’s friends have had a phase where they call him ‘Little Dejun’, but Guanheng hasn’t seemed to grow out of it. Perhaps that’s expected though: lifelong torment from your best friend. “Go to sleep now.”

“I don’t want you to sweat all over me when you’re sleeping,” Dejun complains once more, but his actions contradict his words, as he tries to get more comfortable. He tangles their legs together so that their knees aren’t bumping into each other, and then tucks his head under Guanheng’s chin under the guise of not having to hear him snore. 

“Okay, that’s enough now,” the younger mumbles sleepily, and the last thing he hears before his ears are stuffed with cotton, is Dejun sighing once again. 

“Spoiled,” Dejun mutters, already aware of Guanheng’s breathing which has managed to even out, a clear sign he’s already halfway asleep, and very much unaware of whatever Dejun says. 

Dejun is eye level with the mole right in the center of Guanheng’s chest, just below his collarbones. He can hear Guanheng’s steady heartbeat underneath his right ear, and admittedly, it’s soothing enough to make him drowsy. 

But he doesn’t succumb yet, not until he throws an arm over Guanheng’s waist to keep from falling off the bed in the midst of the night, courtesy of the both of them moving around a ton when they sleep. He closes his eyes blissfully once more, and thinks he feels Guanheng’s arm tighten around his shoulders. But it could just be him imagining things. 

“Spoiled brat.” 

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


Guanheng always does all the assignments he’s procrastinated on throughout the week on Friday nights, which is why he normally rejects the party invitations sent his way. And it normally isn’t a problem, except this time, there’s a bribe that Guanheng simply can’t reject. 

And that bribe is Dejun’s wide, puppy dog eyes. He still tries to relent though, because Guanheng will  _ not  _ be known as a weak man. No matter how many puppy movies he cries over.

“Guanheng, please!” he begs again, holding his hands together and invading Guanheng’s personal space, something he doesn’t do unless he’s terribly desperate. “Just one night!” 

“One night, which will turn to two, and then three, and then you’re going to turn me into some wild party animal!” Guanheng argues around his mouth full of ramen, pointing his chopsticks accusingly at his best friend. “Don’t try and sabotage my GPA! I’m finally catching up to you!”

“I’m not sabotaging anything, stop being dramatic,” Dejun tsks, and it makes Guanheng scoff. 

“I’m being dramatic? _I’m_ being dramatic—”

“Can we come to the agreement that you’re both dramatic?” Mark sighs when he walks into the kitchen, the unbuckled chains and unzipped zippers on his leather jacket making obnoxious noises with every step he takes. His black jacket is a stark contrast to the fitted pastel purple crop top he’s wearing underneath. “Stop yelling when you’re sitting right in front of each other.”

Dejun turns away from Mark when he goes to slip on his shoes, and then he’s looking back at Guanheng, that  _ pathetic  _ look on his face that’s just begging for Guanheng to finally give in. 

“Please?”

“Why though?” Guanheng sighs, slumping back into his seat, already feeling his resolve crumble. He lets his chopsticks drop, and he waits for Dejun’s answer. “Why are you so adamant about this party, this week, this night, of all things?” He fixes Dejun with a look. “You normally don’t hold me in shackles.”

“I’m not holding you in shackles,” Dejun groans, slumping over the table and resting his head in his hands. He mumbles something, but to Guanheng, it’s incomprehensible.

“What? What did you say?” he asks, leaning over the table a bit more to get closer. Dejun repeats himself, but Guanheng’s eyebrows furrow again since he once again, can’t make it out. “You’re not making any sense—what did you say?”

Dejun groans louder this time, lifting his head up quickly and knocking right into Guanheng’s chin. It makes them both groan, and the younger is massaging his chin when Dejun says,

“I want you to meet someone!”

Guanheng’s hand movements freeze comically on his chin, and he knows it’s comical because Mark and Yukhei laugh from the foyer, where they’re putting on jackets and shoes. Dejun was going to be late if he didn’t get going soon. 

“Who do I have to meet? I’m doing perfectly fine as it is!” Guanheng says defensively, and it only makes Dejun scrunch his face up. 

“Not like that—I want you to meet someone  _ I’m  _ seeing,” Dejun corrects, and while it does make Guanheng panic less, there’s a new type of feeling which washes over him. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt it before, and he has no clue what it is. He’ll figure it out later though: for now, he’ll focus on what Dejun is telling him.

“You? Found someone you actually want me to meet?” Guanheng repeats, and he thinks he sees Dejun’s eye twitch, but he’s not too sure. It was definitely a one hundred and eighty degree flip from when he was trying to use the puppy dog eyes on him a few minutes ago. “What, are you dating?” 

“No…” Dejun says quietly, and when Guanheng looks hard enough, he can see Dejun’s cheeks turning pink. 

That’s something he hasn’t seen happen recently other than when they drink too much. Blushed cheeks suit him, but not when Guanheng doesn’t know what, or rather,  _ who  _ is the cause of the pink hue. 

“Then?” he asks, eyes fixated on the way Dejun’s blush travels further across his face. Were his cheekbones always that high? 

“He’s just someone I went out with a few times,” Dejun explains quickly, and when he finally looks back up at Guanheng’s face again, even the tips of his ears are a little flushed. 

Just who is this guy, and why is it Guanheng’s first time hearing about him?

“And it’s been going well?” Guanheng asks cautiously, because as much as he makes jokes about the vicious cycle that is Dejun’s love life, he doesn’t want to dismiss what could be a potential relationship. No matter how weirdly protective the prospect of Dejun being in a relationship makes him feel. 

“I think so?” his best friend answers meekly, fiddling around with the collar of his own t-shirt. Guanheng recognizes it as a nervous habit. “This will be our fourth time hanging out… He’s the one who invited me to the party.” 

Guanheng looks away from Dejun’s fingers fiddling with his collar, and then looks away from the slowly fading pink blush. He casts a brief look at Yukhei and Mark to distract himself, and sees that they’re busy talking amongst themselves. 

“And you want me there because…?”

“Because you’re my best friend?” Dejun says like it’s obvious, his head tilted a bit to the side. He makes a move to grab Guanheng’s hand, and he squeezes it between the two of his. “And my emotional support. And I need your best friend stamp of approval on this guy.”

Guanheng’s hand starts to feel sweaty for no reason, and he finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from how Dejun’s hand looks around his own. He’s only snapped back to reality when he feels Dejun squeeze once again.

“Please?” he asks again, this time softer, and this time back to pleading. Just by looking into his eyes, Guanheng can tell how much this means to Dejun. And if it means this much to him, then as Dejun’s best friend, Guanheng has no choice but to go along with it. 

“Fine,” he says, and Dejun’s reaction is immediate. Jumping up from his seat with a large grin on his face, jumping around the table until he wraps his arms around Guanheng and says ‘thank you’ a thousand times. 

Guanheng sighs while looking up at the ceiling, and mentally asks himself why his heart beats a little erratically when Dejun hugs him. 

  
  
  


It’s just like any other college party Guanheng usually refrains from involving himself with. Obnoxiously loud music, empty beer cans and discarded food on the front lawn, and way too many bodies packed in one space to be considered sanitary. 

But Guanheng pushes all of this to the back of his mind, and focuses more on his Dejun won’t stop bouncing up and down next to him. He’s nervous—that much Guanheng can tell. And since the only reason he’s agreed to be here is to be Dejun’s emotional support, Guanheng throws an arm around his shoulders to quite literally ground him: to stop him from any further bouncing. 

“Loosen up dude,” Guanheng tells him, shaking him around a bit to expel the nerves. Or at least, he thinks that’s what it does. “You’ve hung out with him before, haven’t you?”

“Okay, but this is different!” Dejun stresses, now nervously wringing his fingers together as they continue to walk closer and closer towards the front door. “This time you're with me. I don’t want to give him a bad impression of you,” he explains, and Guanheng thinks he hears Yukhei snort from Dejun’s other side. 

He wonders what that’s about. 

“Who cares what he thinks of me?” Guanheng asks with a nose scrunch, and Dejun fixes him with an incredulous look. 

“ _ I  _ care,” he answers. “Your best friend is like an extension of yourself. You and I are a package deal Heng, and I don’t wanna scare him off.”

“Hey! I don’t scare people off!” Guanheng gasps, offended when he catches Dejun’s eyes. “And anyways, you’re the one who has angry eyebrows all the time!”

“What do my  _ eyebrows  _ have to do with it?” Dejun shrieks, one of his hands flying up to where they rest, sculpted and thick. “Do they look  _ bad _ ?”

“You two—enough,” Yukhei sighs, effectively gathering both of their attention and cutting their conversation short. “Jun, your eyebrows look great,” he assures Dejun, and then he turns to Guanheng. “Dude, sometimes you have a really bad resting bitch face.” And with that, Yukhei shrugs, and then opens the door for them.

Guanheng can’t even think of a comeback if he wanted to, the deafening music so loud that it hinders his thought process. 

It’s the typical college party scene, one that Guanheng hasn’t been to since his first month of freshman year—that was when he discovered that partying was definitely not for him. Dejun, on the other hand, could be as rowdy as Yukhei when he wanted to be. Guanheng didn’t take him as the type of person who’d break out of his introverted shell at parties, and when Guanheng had asked, Dejun said it was easy to because most people were probably drunk and would forget about it all the next morning. 

Guanheng guesses that makes some sense. 

Anyways, Dejun’s hand finds his own as they manoeuvre through the crowded hallways, and into the way too packed kitchen. Guanheng is positive there aren’t even supposed to be that many people in such a confined space at a time, but alas. He finds himself here, squished alongside any adolescents who are making the same poor decisions he is. 

“So, tell me about this guy,” Guanheng says over the music, practically yelling. He’s sure his throat will hate him tomorrow. “Above or below my Jun’s standards?”

Dejun elbows him below the ribs. 

“I dunno, he’s on the swim team,” Dejun tells him, searching around the tacky kitchen counters for something. Guanheng had no idea what it is exactly that he’s looking for until Dejun grabs onto the neck of a closed beer bottle. “Pretty tall, his hair is blond. Oh, and he’s a business major. Just like you.” He emphasizes his point by poking Guanheng straight in the chest with the top of the bottle. 

“Anything else? Anything interesting?” Guanheng presses, reluctantly taking the bottle Dejun passes his way. He isn’t too keen on drinking lukewarm beer, but for Dejun, he guesses he’ll do just about anything. 

“Well, I want there to still be some things he can tell you,” Dejun says, and he opens his own beer bottle skillfully using his keys. Guanheng seriously has no idea where he learned to do that. He motions for Guanheng to pass him his bottle, and then does the same thing with the keys before giving it back. “But I guess I could say that he’s—kissing some girl.”

Guanheng’s eyebrows furrow as he hears this—was Dejun supposed to say that? 

His confusion lasts only for a second before he sees that Dejun is looking somewhere past him from above his shoulder, and he decides to follow his gaze. 

What he sees is the boy Dejun had described—tall, blond, wearing a varsity jacket with the university’s swim team logo on the arm—pressing a girl against the wall and practically eating her alive. 

It would’ve been a normal party sight if Guanheng didn’t know that that was the boy who Dejun had been seeing. The one who asked him to this party in the first place. 

Guanheng feels himself become dejected for Dejun, but he can’t imagine what his best friend must be feeling. When Guanheng looks back at him, his eyes are stuck onto the scene of the boy and the girl. 

“Dejun?” Guanheng tries, careful as he places a gentle hand on the other’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay—”

“Why should I even be surprised?” Dejun scoffs, laughing humourlessly as he finally tears his eyes away. There aren’t any tears in his eyes, but Guanheng has known Dejun long enough to know that the hollow sound of his voice means that he’s not finding this as funny as his laugh had let on. “This isn’t anything new anyways.”

“It’s okay to be upset,” Guanheng consoles, taking a step closer to the smaller boy so that he wouldn’t have to keep yelling his words. This didn’t feel like an appropriate conversation to be yelling about either. “You guys went on a few dates, he’s totally in the wrong for this.”

“Whatever,” Dejun grumbles, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips. “I don’t even care. It’s not like this is something that’s never happened before.”

“Dejun, c’mon don’t think like that—”

“I’m just here to have fun, okay Heng?” he sighs, and then tries to put a smile on his face. Guanheng can tell it’s forced, but he doesn’t think this is the most appropriate scene to call Dejun out on it. “And I’m glad I brought you here with me. So let’s have some fun, alright?” 

Dejun brings his bottle up for cheers, and Guanheng, finding that nothing will make Dejun feel better than forgetting this happened altogether, knocks his bottle into the other’s. 

Guanheng prepares himself for a long, long night.   
  


“ _ Xuxi _ ~” 

“Dear God,” Mark whispers, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Guanheng is struggling to keep Dejun up straight as he leads them both to where their roommates are waiting for them. Guanheng had explained to Mark over the phone that the trek from the backyard to the front door would take longer than usual since he has to haul Dejun’s deadweight with him, but Mark didn’t think it’d be anything like  _ this.  _

Mark doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dejun this hammered—and Mark is Dejun’s resident party buddy! They go everywhere together: frat parties, house parties, dorm parties, clubs,  _ and  _ even go bar hopping together! 

But still, he’s never seen Dejun like this—using Guanheng as support to not trip over himself, and flushed so pink in the face Mark would think it was makeup if he didn’t know any better. 

“And you  _ let  _ him?” Mark immediately shrieks once Dejun and Guanheng are within earshot, and it earns him a glare from the younger of the two. 

“I couldn’t really stop him. Party Dejun is an entirely different breed,” Guanheng complains, leaning himself against the wall so that it was easier to bear Dejun’s weight. Not that he was heavy, but Guanheng had just pushed past a throng of partygoers, and he felt as winded as he probably looked.

“Yeah, he’s cool like that,” Yukhei grins, indifferent to the scene in front of them. “Aw, little Jun. All fucked up. I’ll carry him,” he offers, as if Guanheng and Mark would have given him a choice, and he kneels down in front of Dejun with his back facing him. 

Guanheng manages to safely deposit Dejun onto Yukhei’s (thankfully) broad back, and then scoffs as Dejun snuggles into Yukhei’s neck, looking relaxed and like he hadn’t been stressing Guanheng out the whole night with the way he’d been running around carelessly,  _ intoxicatedly _ . 

Thankfully, the walk back to their apartment isn’t too far. It’s only fifteen minutes, and while Guanheng has to keep Mark from tripping over the laces of his untied Converse ten too many times, they all make it back in one piece. 

If having ruptured eardrums from Dejun and Yukhei’s loud singing (read: screeching) still counts as one piece. 

Guanheng hadn’t drank much at the party, he had barely finished that first bottle of beer Dejun had given him. He had considered getting another drink just to find the rest of the party bearable, but he’s glad he didn’t when he realizes that he’s the only one sober enough to get all of his roommates to bed. 

Thankfully, Mark and Yukhei aren’t much of a hassle. After he makes them halfheartedly drink some water, they’re sent into their own room to crash for the night. Guanheng doesn’t really know what time it is, but he also doesn’t really care. 

He’s mainly focused on how he’s going to get the heap of Dejun on the floor into their bedroom. And into pyjamas. And get him to brush his teeth. 

Guanheng groans softly, and decides getting himself settled first will make everything easier. 

So he drags Dejun to their room, and makes him sit patiently on his bed while he makes quick work of changing into sleeping clothes and brushing his teeth. Leon tickles his ankle a few times, but other than that, there are no disruptions. 

He picks out Dejun’s clothes before tossing them onto the latter’s bed, and then fixes his best friend with a strict look.

“Take your shirt off.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Dejun grins, purposefully bratty in the way only drunk Dejun is. His mood fluctuates a lot when he’s under the influence, and Guanheng never knows what to expect. He guesses this is better than a sleepy, deadweight Dejun though. 

“You need to wear your pyjamas,” Guanheng tries again, and it only broadens the grin on Dejun’s face. He even goes as far as to fall back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling as he giggles to himself. 

“But these are cozy~” 

He’s wearing skin tight jeans and a floral buttoned shirt. Dejun is  _ not  _ cozy. 

“Jun, don’t make me do this the hard way,” Guanheng threatens, hands on his hips as he looms over Dejun’s frame. God, this stance makes him feel like Kun—their older friend who seems to always be too busy to hang out with them as much as he used to. 

“Oooh, are you going to go all macho man on me?” Dejun asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows, rolling over onto his stomach as he speaks. He doesn’t last in that position for more than ten seconds before rolling over onto his back again. “I think my belt is too tight.” Yet, Dejun makes no voice to unbuckle it. 

Guanheng groans again, and hauls Dejun into a sitting position by the shoulders. 

Hard way it is then. 

He starts by unbuttoning Dejun’s shirt, and then pulling it out of where it tucked into his pants. The fabric falls off of his shoulders easily, and for some reason, it takes everything inside of Guanheng to  _ not  _ stare at his pretty collarbones. 

He feels weird about acknowledging Dejun’s pretty collarbones at a time like this, so Guanheng is quick to pull a ratty old t-shirt over the other’s head. 

Dejun’s head pops out of the neck hole with a huff, and his hair sits in a messy brunette tuft. Guanheng is a bit endeared by the sight. 

While he’s busy staring at Dejun’s face, he notices something which makes him sigh. 

“Jun, you gotta take your contacts out,” he says, reaching into the drawer of Dejun’s bedside table and grabbing his glasses, along with his contact lens box. 

“Do it for me, macho man,” Dejun whines, his lips falling into a pout when Guanheng just fixes him with a  _ look.  _

“I’m not going to stick my fingers into your eyeballs,” Guanheng says firmly, thrusting his glasses, contact lens box, and just for the heck of it, pyjama pants into Dejun’s arms. “Go to the bathroom to finish changing, and then brush your teeth.”

Surprisingly, and to his relief, Dejun only pouts and whines a ton as he gets up and drags himself to the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door completely behind him, which Guanheng guesses is a good thing since he doesn’t want Dejun to be unsupervised, fall and like… Hit his head on the toilet or something. 

In the meantime, while keeping an ear peeled for Dejun, Guanheng tosses Dejun’s floral shirt into the hamper, and then cleans up a little of their room as he waits. Obviously, it takes Dejun longer than usual, but at some point, he trudges back into their room, and then tosses his jeans and contact lense box onto his bed without a care. 

Guanheng guesses they’ll just have to use his bed tonight. It was probably for the better too—Dejun moves around in his sleep a lot, and drunk Dejun probably doesn’t have any concept of space and would gladly throw himself off of his own bed. 

“Come here, you absolute mess,” Guanheng sighs, opening his arms as an invitation. And Dejun, like always, accepts and falls right into them. He almost knees Guanheng in the groin with how carelessly he falls, but he doesn’t, and Guanheng guesses that’s what’s important at the end of the day. 

“You’re so comfortable,” Dejun mumbles, his lips pressed right up against the skin of Guanheng’s neck. He can feel them moving every time he talks. “My teddy bear,” he adds on, sighing contently. 

Guanheng only hums, manoeuvring them both under the blankets somehow while not disturbing their position. He has Dejun practically on top of him, but he knows that if he rustles him too much, he might end up waking up for real. And that was something he didn’t need to deal with—he sneaks a glance over to the block on his bedside table—at almost 2:00 am. 

It’s quiet now as Guanheng reaches over to turn off the lamp, bathing their room in darkness, and he thinks Dejun is asleep. Their legs are tangled together once more, and Guanheng’s hand finds itself mindlessly fiddling with the fabric of Dejun’s sleeping shirt. 

He’s about to close his eyes and fall into the lull of sleep, but it’s that exact moment that Dejun decides to reposition himself. 

No longer on top of him, Dejun is laying on his side with all his limbs wrapped around Guanheng instead, reminiscent of koala. It has the latter repositioning himself too, until his one arm is acting as a pillow for his best friend, hand playing with his brown-dyed hair, and the other is resting laced with Dejun’s on his stomach. Courtesy of the elder, who had grabbed it and doesn’t seem to want to let go. 

Dejun is warm and more comfortable than Guanheng remembers when they’re pressed together like this, and just when he thinks he can fall asleep like this, Dejun sighs. 

“Heng?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you think I’m the problem?” he mumbles, and it makes Guanheng’s eyebrows pinch together at the middle. As well as render him more awake—what does Dejun mean? 

“What? Where’s the problem?” 

“Me,” Dejun repeats, squirming a little. “Right here. Why does nobody like me?” 

“I like you,” Guanheng says immediately, almost too immediate. So immediate to the point where he doesn’t know where he himself is coming from—he likes Dejun. He always has. Since they were little kids—that’s why Guanheng had offered him a juice box. Because he liked him. That’s why they’ve been friends for so long. 

But this time when he says it, his heart doesn’t feel like it usually does. This time, it beats a little louder. And he’s not sure if it’s because of his own words, or because he’s nervous about how upset Dejun sounds. 

Guanheng hates it when Dejun is upset, and it makes him upset by extension. 

“You’re the only one who seems to,” Dejun bubblers, and it might be the alcohol getting to him, because Dejun sniffs, and Guanheng’s heart sinks. “Why is it always me? Why does no one want to be with me? I thought I was pretty hot too!” 

“You are hot,” Guanheng assures in the midst of his panic, saying the first thing which comes to mind. He wonders if Dejun will even remember this the next morning when a headache will be pounding at his skull. “Like. Super hot.”

“So why does no one want to date me?” Dejun wails, and it makes Guanheng flinch a little. He’s taken aback by the volume, and then some when Dejun starts crying into his chest. 

Whether it be the alcohol which is making him act like this or not, Guanheng can still tell that this has been something which has genuinely been bothering Dejun for a while. Because past all the jokes they can make about it, Dejun only laughs to lighten the way he feels about it. As his best friend, Guanheng knows that.

Guanheng knows everything about Dejun. 

Like how amazing he is. How smart he is. How beautiful, and stunning, and cute, and  _ lovely  _ he is. Dejun is so talented—the guitar, his voice, his brain—and Guanheng doesn’t want people to take those amazing traits for granted anymore. 

Guanheng knows how hard Dejun works, how much he’s able to love, how he holds his friends close to his heart. How caring he is for others, how selfless he can be, how adorable he is with cats— 

How he doesn’t deserve to be getting upset over worthless guys who never deserved him in the first place. 

“Hey. Hey, Dejun. Calm down, it’s okay,” Guanheng says softly, using the arm that was previously in Dejun’s hair to pull him closer. He’s known Dejun long enough to know touch comforted him. “They’re the ones who have something wrong with them. Who wouldn’t want you?” he comforts, and finds it a bit alarming how easy the words slip out—how little he had to think about them. 

“Am I the problem?” Dejun asks again, his hand that’s already holding Guanheng’s squeezing tighter. “I just—I didn’t know  _ everyone  _ would be okay with playing me.” 

Guanheng feels a sharp pain in his chest, but he doesn’t feel like thinking about it now. Dejun is crying next to him, his shoulders shaking with his every few breaths, and Guanheng wants it to stop.

He hates seeing Dejun cry. Even if it is dark in their bedroom—he feels it, with the way his best friend’s body shakes, and with the way Dejun’s tears slip onto his skin. 

“They shouldn’t be,” Guanheng assures firmly, running a hand up and down Dejun’s back, feeling the dips in his spine as he does. “They’re so  _ dumb  _ for that. They're assholes, if they go around treating people like that. It’s not your fault, Jun, it never was your fault.”

“You’re so nice to me,” Dejun sniffs, and Guanheng really,  _ really  _ considers if he’ll even remember any of this when he wakes up. He’s pretty sure he won’t. “I love you so much, Heng. My favourite person.”

He’s calmed down now, Dejun’s breathing is slowing back down to normal. But that doesn’t mean Guanheng’s breathing is—Dejun’s words had ignited  _ something  _ inside of him. Something which makes his heart pound and makes his palms start to sweat. Something which makes his belly swoop with a warm feeling, and makes his nerves start to jitter. 

“Everyone should be nice to you,” Guanheng whispers, pulling the words out of his throat with a weird amount of difficulty. He feels Dejun go lax against him, and knows that if he isn’t asleep now, then he will be within the next minute. 

Maybe that’s why it’s not terribly difficult to say, “I-I love you too.”

But what is terribly difficult, is to acknowledge the fact that Guanheng _really_ means it. 

_ He loves Dejun.  _

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


Dejun’s headache hurts so bad the next day, that he decides to sleep it all away. He’s lucky it’s a Saturday. And that Guanheng is willing to let him rot in his bed since he was in too much pain to even move on his own. 

Luckily, Leon and Louis keep him company when Dejun can’t. And he’s fine with that, honestly. They’re a cute and nice distraction, constantly demanding for snacks whenever Guanheng so much as takes a step somewhere. 

But they’re soft, and they make Guanheng forget about his late night discovery, as well as how his heart speeds up whenever he so much as looks at the direction of their bedroom. 

If he’s already this bad, just how far gone is he? And  _ how long  _ has he been this far gone without even knowing it? Is that why people look at him weird when he keeps using Dejun’s shoulder as a pillow? Or is it why Yukhei looks at him all funny when he sees them both in one bed. 

Guanheng thought it was all normal for best friends, but if his heart beats a mile a minute when they’re together then… Then maybe he  _ doesn't  _ think of Dejun as just his best friend. 

But before his mind can divulge into that grey area even further, Louis meows, paws at his legs, and demands his attention.

“What’s up baby?” Guanheng sings, picking up Louis and bringing his face up to his level. “What are you thinking about?” 

Louis does nothing except purr and close his eyes, burrowing into the warmth of Guanheng’s hoodie. It’s not actually his—he thinks it’s Yukhei’s, just because it almost slips off one of his shoulders. 

“I’m not your pillow,” Guanheng scolds halfheartedly, running his palm over the top of Louis’ head. “You can’t sleep on me all the time.”

But Louis doesn’t move or listen to him, as Guanheng expects. Instead, Leon takes the scene as an invite to hop onto Guanheng’s lap, curling into his thigh and looking up at Guanheng with big eyes. 

“What? You wanna sleep here too?” Guanheng asks incredulously, and doesn’t receive anything but a meow in return. And then Louis lays his body down, stretching a tiny bit before laying down completely. His head is pillowed on the pouch of Guanheng’s hoodie, and by the looks of it, neither cat is going to get off of him any time soon. 

He’s at least glad he chose a comfortable position to sit in; on the couch in one corner. 

It’s quiet enough that Guanheng could nap too if he wanted, but he didn’t really want to. However, letting his mind run freely was also dangerous, because as of now, every little sound Dejun makes from their room has Guanheng sweating. It doesn’t help that they're the only ones home at the moment. Or that Dejun sounds like he’s getting out of bed. 

He might’ve jinxed it if he’s being honest, by letting his thoughts wander to just  _ Dejun,  _ because not even two minutes later, Guanheng hears the older boy’s slippers shuffling into the living room. 

“Morning,” Dejun mutters, shorts loose around his hips and t-shirt way too large to be considered normal. Was he wearing something of Yukhei’s too?

“Don’t ‘morning’ me,” Guanheng grumbles, one of his hands absentmindedly stroking behind Leon’s ears. “It’s 7:00 pm.”

“Oops,” Dejun hums, but he doesn’t sound apologetic. Dejun scratches the nape of his neck, and Guanheng realizes he didn’t expect him to sound apologetic. 

Maybe Guanheng never did expect much from Dejun. Maybe all he needed was Dejun,  _ just  _ Dejun. 

Or maybe he’s so insanely caught up in his new realization of feelings that he doesn’t know how to think about something without it correlating back to Dejun. 

Yeah, that sounds about right. 

He’s brought back to the present when the weight of the couch shifts beside him, and before he can even say anything, Dejun is settling in next to him, much like Leon did. 

“No, no—Dejun! Get off of me, you need a shower,” Guanheng groans, half-assedly attempting to shove Dejun away. But it doesn’t work because he isn’t putting much force into it—he doesn’t want to disturb the cats. And maybe he likes the way butterflies swarm around his stomach when he has Dejun pressed this close to him. 

“Let me be,” the other sniffs. “My head is killing me.”

“Yeah well, that’s your own fault,” Guanheng sasses, and all it does is earn him a whine from Dejun, and then the latter snuggling in closer. You might as well have thought Dejun was a cat too, with the way he’s behaving. 

“Sympathize with me,” Dejun complains, weakly kicking Guanheng’s leg with his foot. “I had a rough night.”

Guanheng perks up, but tries not to let it show.

“Do you even remember anything from last night?” he asks casually, in an attempt to mask his burning curiosity. 

“I remember falling asleep in your bed. That’s all,” he replies, and he already sounds sleepy again. Guanheng wonders if Dejun can sleep for a whole day at once. 

“Hm, you remember hogging the blankets I see,” Guanheng teases, and it makes Dejun scoff. 

“After crying my eyes out like a loser, yeah.”

Guanheng frowns immediately, his head poking around until he can look at Dejun over the cats. 

“So you  _ do  _ remember?”

“How can I forget? It was embarrassing,” Dejun sighs, one of his hands reaching out to run down Louis’ spine. “Damn, just thinking about it makes me want to cringe.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Guanheng says seriously, throwing an arm around Dejun, because it’s like second nature at this point. Nevermind how his heart thrums in his ears. “It’s okay to be upset about that. Guys are douches.”

“ _ Or  _ I’m dramatic,”

“Look, I know you were a theatre kid, but I promise I’d have snapped too at one point if every guy I met ended up being an asshole.” 

Dejun snorts, and he finally takes his eyes off of Louis, and looks at Guanheng right in the eyes for the first time today. 

“Since we’re already on the topic… But why don’t you try dating? I hardly believe you like hearing all of my stories without being a  _ teeny tiny  _ bit jealous,” Dejun teases, and it makes Guanheng roll his eyes as he stalls for time. 

How is he supposed to answer Dejun without giving away that he  _ was  _ jealous every time he heard Dejun recount stories of his dates. Jealous of all the guys who got to take Dejun out on a date, jealous of all the guys who got to kiss Dejun, hold his hand, do all the  _ coupley  _ stuff with. Maybe he didn’t know it then, but now, he knows exactly what to name that feeling which would always simmer inside of him whenever Dejun would recount his dates in the darkness of their room at night. 

“Never gave it much thought,” Guanheng says easily, because it isn’t like it’s wrong either. He’s never actively sought out to find someone to date—and he realizes now that it’s mainly because he’s always had Dejun by his side; he didn’t need anyone else. “Dating is overrated.”

“It totally is,” Dejun sulks, nodding his head. Guanheng feels him move against his hoodie. “It’s like saving the best part of your sandwich as your last bite… But it’s just mediocre at the end,” he explains, scrunching his nose right after. 

“That’s oddly specific,” Guanheng chuckles, and Dejun shrugs. 

It seems like Dejun wants to say something more, but they both get cut off by the sound of keys jingling in the front door. The sound is enough to startle the cats, who scramble off of Guanheng (finally) at the noise. 

“Don’t tell me you two have been rotting around all day?” Yukhei asks as he walks into the living room, looking way better for wear than Guanheng and Dejun do. “Dejun, did you even eat anything?”

Yukhei never usually pesters them like a mother hen, but it seems like he decided to do so today. He has his hands on his hips as he looks at Dejun, awaiting an answer. 

“Uh,” Dejun blinks, sitting up straighter and no longer pressed against Guanheng’s side. Guanheng misses the warmth already. “No…?” he says sheepishly, but it doesn’t change Yukhei’s reaction; Yukhei still rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I’m so done with you,” Yukhei tsks, waving his hand around like a frustrated mother. Oddly enough, it suits him. “I’ll make everyone ramen. Is that fine?”

“God yes, that sounds  _ great _ ,” Dejun groans happily, and all it does is earn him another glare from Yukhei.

“You don’t have a say in this, take what I give you and don’t complain.”

Dejun’s eyes widen as he hears these words, but doesn’t say anything against them as he watches Yukhei walk into the kitchen. Once he’s gone, he catches Guanheng’s eye, just to have the latter try to stifle his laughter when he sees Dejun’s expression.

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


There isn’t a day which passes by during the following week, where Guanheng isn’t aware of how  _ pretty _ Dejun looks all the time. 

Sure, he’s always known that Dejun was good looking, he was handsome, and Guanheng meant it when he assured Dejun that he was  _ hot.  _

But now, looking at him with a curated fondness which he simply can’t seem to want to ever hold for anyone else, Guanheng is rendered speechless every time he catches Dejun doing the bare minimum, but doing it while looking so  _ pretty.  _

How can someone as beautiful as Dejun exist in this world? Guanheng isn’t too sure, but he’d be a fool to not appreciate it. 

He’s been staring at Dejun more than he should be, even he knows that. But when Dejun’s long eyelashes kiss the highs of his cheek, or when he scrunches his nose up cutely at a rather difficult homework question, Guanheng has to stop himself from melting. 

He’s always known of Dejun’s little quirks like this, but it feels like he’s discovering Dejun all over again, this time through a rose tinted lens.

And he loves it. 

“I can feel you staring,” Dejun chuckles, not for the first time in the past few days. Guanheng would be ashamed for having been caught red-handed this often, but he’s Huang Guanheng, and rarely feels sorry for his feelings. “What’s up?” 

Dejun puts his pencil down in order to put his full attention onto Guanheng. They’re in an empty band room, under the guise of doing homework. Really, Guanheng is messing around on the drum set, and Dejun is writing a little song for fun, a guitar propped up next to him. 

“Does something have to be up for me to stare at you?” Guanheng asks, and realizes how weird it sounds right after the words leave his lips. 

“I know I’m gorgeous, but can a man catch a break?” he jokes, and Guanheng has to physically bite his tongue to keep from agreeing with him. Dejun  _ is  _ gorgeous. 

“Whatever. Just go back to writing mushy lyrics,” Guanheng says, poking his tongue out childishly as he turns back to the drums. 

“I can’t,” Dejun sighs and Guanheng vaguely registers the sound of Dejun’s pencil repeatedly hitting the surface of his notebook. “I have no mushy experiences to write from,” he pouts. 

“You don’t  _ have  _ to write from experience,” Guanheng consoles, but it only makes Dejun shrug, dropping his writing materials and reaching for the guitar instead. “Whatever you write will be good anyways.”

“Thanks,” he says, positioning his guitar and strumming a few chords for fun. “You always say nice things about me.” 

Dejun is smiling, and Guanheng hopes he always will. 

“Because there's only nice things about you,” he says before he can stop himself, and immediately plays a set on the drums so that he doesn’t have to think too much about what he just did. 

“Oooh~” Dejun’s voice still manages to cut through his drums, and despite himself, it makes a warm flush crawl up his neck. Guanheng is usually _never_ like this, but he guesses he can appropriately call this _The_ _Dejun Effect_. “Such a smooth talker. You should use it on someone soon.”

“I  _ just  _ used it,” Guanheng says over the sound of the drums, and while he knows very well he can just stop playing for a few minutes, he doesn’t want to be left in silence. He’s afraid of what else his loose filter will let slip out of his mouth, if there was nothing distracting him. “Keep up with the program.”

“Program my ass,” Dejun scoffs, and Guanheng just barely hears it before hitting the drums harder, effectively tuning out everything else in the room.

Guanheng doesn’t resonate as intimately with music as Dejun does, but he knows and enjoys his fair share. While Dejun has a deep love for his guitar, Guanheng had only picked up the drums a few years ago. He’s not into the technicalities or anything, not like Dejun who writes his own passionate lyrics, and even sheet music at times. 

Regardless of that though, they play together more often than not. Whenever Dejun  _ isn’t  _ holding a solo concert for Guanheng in their bedroom, they’re both in the band room messing around. 

Guanheng cherishes these moments, where he gets Dejun to himself. No roommates, no cats, and no one but them. 

Just him and Dejun, the drums and the guitar, and Guanheng’s heart which won’t stop thumping in his chest whenever he sees Dejun’s bangs fall into his eyes. 

Guanheng misses a beat, and it throws his whole rhythm off. The silence is abrupt when he stops, but now he can hear Dejun humming from behind him. 

“What song is that?” he asks abruptly, and it cuts off Dejun’s humming. He almost wants to tell him to continue, but decides he shouldn’t at the last minute. When Dejun goes a few seconds without answering, he adds, “Or is it an original piece?” 

“Nothing set in stone,” Dejun answers, and there’s a soft smile on his face as he looks at the ceiling. His eyes don’t stay there long though, since he looks at Guanheng right after. There’s something in there, but Guanheng can’t put his finger on it. “Just something that reminds me of someone.”

“A douche boy?” Guanheng tries, but it just makes the corner of Dejun’s lips quirk up, and makes him roll his eyes. He removes his guitar from his lap and stretches his arms over his head. Dejun resembles a cat when he does this. 

“No… Not a douche at all.”

Guanheng wants to wait for Dejun to tell him who it reminds him of then, but he’s always been impulsive. Guanheng works on instinct because that way he believes he's never holding back, but now, he’s not too sure if it’s the brightest move. 

Because right now, in the quaint atmosphere they’ve created, he finds his mouth moving before his brain can process the words he’s saying. 

“Good. Stop thinking about douches when you’re such a romantic. Song writer, guitar player. Boyfriend material, ten out of ten,” he says, and he mentally smacks himself for it. Where was any of this even coming from? 

Thankfully though, all it does is make Dejun laugh. And if Guanheng looked closely, he thinks he sees Dejun’s cheeks flare a little pink. But he doesn’t look too closely, because he doesn’t want to give himself false hope. 

“Tell that to everyone else,” he sighs, a soft smile on his lips as he directs it at Guanheng. “I guess they don’t appreciate my boyfriend material.”

Guanheng doesn’t like how those words sound, and he thinks that’s why his mouth moves before his brain once again as he says, 

“You know… I’d never do that to you.”

Guanheng has the sudden urge to turn back around and face the drums, but he doesn’t. He instead focuses on how Dejun’s eyebrows furrow and meet in the middle. 

“Do what?”

It’s an innocent enough question, but Guanheng’s heart feels like it’s going to over-exert itself really soon if it doesn’t stop pounding against his chest. 

Guanheng takes a deep breath, and then scooches on his chair closer to where Dejun is sitting on a small couch. Their knees could touch if Guanheng moves even an inch closer, but he doesn’t think his heart will be able to handle that right now. 

“You’re always dating all these shitty people, Dejun. They don’t treat you right, and I’m just saying that I’d never treat you like that, if we were dating. You’re amazing, you’re beautiful, you’re so  _ wonderful _ . I’d love you the way you deserve to be loved if you just—”

Guanheng cuts himself off when he realizes what he was about to say. 

_ —just gave me the chance.  _

He’s scared to meet Dejun’s eyes, but he’s more anxious about  _ not  _ knowing his reaction. So he wills himself to look over, just to see that Dejun is looking at him with wide eyes, and pink cheeks. 

He thinks Dejun looks cute like this, but his own nerves make him laugh out a little. 

“Too much?” he asks quietly, afraid that if he spoke any louder, he’d ruin the delicate atmosphere between them. His own face feels like it’s on fire, and the sudden urge to  _ hide  _ is all consuming. “Dejun—”

“What if,” he starts, and he clears his throat right after. “What if I don’t want to be friends anymore?” Well, Guanheng doesn’t like to be dramatic or anything, but it really does feel like Dejun had just plunged a knife into his heart. Maybe even twists it with the way his face scrunches up afterwards. “Wait—No, that’s not what I meant—”

“The more I look at you, the more I feel like I need to leave,” Guanheng jokes with a weak laugh, because that’s all he  _ can  _ do right now, when everything in him is coming together just to create a ball of nerves. 

With Dejun tripping over his words, struggling to find a way to explain to Guanheng that he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, with Guanheng fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry because he feels like this was a mistake. 

God, why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? 

“N-No! Don’t go, don’t go anywhere,” Dejun says loudly, his hand reaching out to grab Guanheng by his hoodie drawstrings when he sees him make a move to get up from his chair. “There’s—I should say something, I know. But I guess hearing everything you said… It’s just a shock because I’m… I’m me? And you’re… You? And I never thought you’d ever l-like me  _ back— _ But I like you. A lot, Guanheng.” 

Guanheng feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs, effectively rendering him breathless as all potential words get stuck in his throat. 

If he thought his face was on fire, it’s nothing compared to the absolute  _ red  _ that’s on Dejun’s. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, and Guanheng can tell that he’s nervous. He’d get the words out faster if he could, but his brain decides that  _ now  _ is finally the time where it wants to take its sweet ass time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he eventually croaks out, his hands moving slowly as they grab onto both of Dejun’s, bringing them down from his hoodie drawstrings and instead onto his lap. He’s held Dejun’s hands before, but this feels… Different. A very good type of different. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dejun argues back, and when Guanheng runs his thumb over Dejun’s wrist, he can feel how fast his heart is beating. It’s good to know he’s not the only one. 

“You kept going on dates,” Guanheng explains softly, rushing to keep talking when he sees Dejun’s mouth open again. “And you looked so happy every time you did—how could I change that? I thought I’d ruin everything if I told you…” 

“I only kept going on dates because I didn’t think you’d ever like me!” Dejun explains, a scandalized look in his face. “Of course it would never work out with them no matter how much I wanted them to—I wanted  _ you.  _ I still want you.”

Guanheng gapes, and he sees his own speechlessness displayed in Dejun’s eyes. 

“You’re so stupid,” Guanheng ends up breathing out, a smile immediately taking over his lips right after. He’s smiling widely at Dejun, he can even feel his lips crack a little. He should reapply his lip balm soon. “You’re  _ so  _ stupid.”

“ _ You’re _ stupid,” Dejun counters, grumbling while also unable to fight his own smile which takes over his mouth. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth—like he always does, it’s a habit he’s developed whenever he’s shy—but ends up pulling Guanheng forward when he does since they’re still holding hands.

They both freeze for a moment, both of their eyes trained on their hands. 

It’s then that Guanheng decides to suck it up, and slowly manoeuvres his hand around until he’s slipping his fingers through the cracks of Dejun’s own. And when he looks back at Dejun, his little smile is still on his face. 

“Don’t be corny,” he mutters, tearing his eyes away from their joint hands just to look at Guanheng’s big smile. “Stop—Don't look at me like that!” 

“Like what?” Guanheng teases, tilting his head to one side. “I’m  _ happy,  _ JunJun.” 

His sudden burst of energy and confidence after hearing Dejun’s explanation causes him to spring onto the couch next to Dejun, who simply squeaks at their proximity. As if they haven’t been closer together before. 

“You’re so cute,” Guanheng gushes. “ _ So  _ cute, I can’t believe I get to tell you that now.” 

Dejun’s  _ embarrassed _ , that much is obvious by the way he’s unable to look Guanheng in the eyes for more than three seconds. Which is laughable at this point—he’s known Dejun all his life, but it seems like he’s reminding himself to be shy now. 

“Enough of that,” Dejun says finally, exhaling a breath out. “We’ve been in here long enough, I’m starting to get hungry now,” he says, letting go of Guanheng’s hand, much to the latter’s dismay, just to begin packing away his notebook and pencil. 

“Whoa Jun, are you asking me on a date?” Guanheng gasps, wiggling his eyebrows when Dejun immediately whips his head back towards him. 

“I’m just hungry! It’s not like it’ll be the first time we eat together!” Dejun splutters with red cheeks, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Guanheng as he goes back to packing his bag. “Don’t make it weird,” he whines, and all it does is make Guanheng laugh.

_ Don’t make it weird.  _

Guanheng simply grins again as he slings an arm around Dejun’s shoulders when they make it out of the band room. 

He’s going to have a field day now that all of his worries have been lifted. 

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


Mark is the first one who looks between the two of them like a fish out of water, and it doesn’t help that it’s also in the company of their other friends. 

It’s one of the rare days where everyone is able to find time in their schedule to meet, getting together at Kun, Ten, and Sicheng’s apartment. There’s only the eight of them, Mark having convinced Yangyang to push off his homework until the next morning. Which normally wouldn’t be encouraged, but Yangyang has been busy lately, so they’re sure he appreciates the breather. 

It’s a normal night where Kun had roped Sicheng and Yukhei into helping him in the kitchen, because Kun doesn’t make Ten do any work, and because he claims he needs to help Sicheng and Yukhei’s cooking skills. 

Guanheng doesn’t care too much for the reasons, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to be one of the people in the kitchen. The last time he tried to make something (ramen—Dejun had asked him to chop some vegetables for ramen), he almost sliced his finger off. Since then, Dejun had told Kun to not let Guanheng into the kitchen unless he wanted to either have his food taste irony, or for Guanheng to continue on with nine fingers. 

Kun relented, Guanheng rejoiced, and Dejun rolled his eyes at his happiness, but it’s whatever. He appreciates it at the end of the day. 

But that wasn’t why Mark was gaping at them like a fish out of water—no, it was because when Dejun gets up from the table to bring an extra set of utensils Sicheng forgot from the kitchen, Guanheng’s arm snakes around his waist before he can take even one step away.

“Can you get a cold water bottle for me too?” he asks, batting his eyelashes just to ensure Dejun’s compliance. 

And he gets it, when Dejun rolls his eyes but nods, his hand tapping Guanheng’s twice to signal for him to let go. And Guanheng does let go, but not before smiling and saying, 

“Thanks babe.”

“Babe?” Mark finally shrieks, when Dejun is already inside the kitchen. Guanheng looks at him curiously, trying to play it nonchalantly despite how his ears burn a bit with everyone’s attention on them suddenly. 

Even Yukhei has slowed down eating just to stare between Mark and Guanheng, and Yangyang catches Guanheng’s eye just to send him a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” Kun asks, more out of curiosity than exasperation. He’s looking at Mark. “Why do you look like you’ve been lied to your whole life?”

“Because I might as well have been!” Mark exclaims, a bit overdramatic, like he always is. It’s one of the reasons why he and Dejun get along so well.

Speaking of Dejun, he’s walking back to the table right as Mark says that, taking his seat next to Guanheng again like nothing happened. Guanheng isn’t too sure if he had heard anything while he was gone, and even if he did, he gives kudos to Dejun for acting like nothing happened. 

“Why are we all so quiet?” Dejun asks as he settles in, raising a curious, and perfectly sculpted eyebrow at everyone. “Is the food that bad today?” he jokes, but all it gathers is a sarcastic chuckle from Kun.

“How long have you been lying to me?” Mark asks abruptly, this time looking directly at Dejun. It makes the latter furrow his eyebrows in confusion, which in turn, makes Mark squint at him. “How long have you and Guanheng been dating!” 

Dejun’s mouth falls open comically at Mark’s question, and his cheeks instantly colour. Guanheng’s noticed that he blushes a lot more frequently now, and he thinks it has to do with his newfound tentativeness when it comes to actions which would’ve been considered ‘everyday normal’ prior to them confessing their feelings. But it’s okay, it’s not like Guanheng isn't like that now too. 

“You and Guanheng are  _ what _ ?” Ten shrieks, even so scandalized. He hates being late to gossip, or not knowing everything. This situation must be his worst nightmare. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, we did  _ not  _ have a roommate meeting about this! Is this why you two pushed your beds together?” Yukhei says, and it makes Dejun groan before he hides his face in Guanheng’s shoulder. Guanheng wishes he could do the same, because he didn’t need Yukhei to tell the entirety of their friend group about that, but alas, he’s left to watch as confusion and entertainment wash over all of their friends’ faces. 

“Well, it’s about time!” Yangyang exclaims over the fuss and noise, which effectively silences everyone. 

“ _ About time _ ? What do you mean _ about time _ ?” Mark asks, clearly the most frustrated and frazzled one here. 

“I mean, have you seen them?” Yangyang deadpans, motioning towards the pair with his spoon. “They have heart eyes whenever they look at each other.”

Dejun comes out of hiding just to glare at Yangyang, and Guanheng swears it’s on instinct when he puts a hand on Dejun’s thigh to calm him down. 

However, he seems to have let the fact that everyone was looking at them slip his mind, since a chorus of coos and hoots follow his action.

God, sometimes he hates his friends. 

“Answer the question,” Ten pipes up, looking between Guanheng and Dejun expectantly. “How long have you been dating?”

Guanheng kind of expects the stretch of silence which follows the question, but he doesn’t want to say anything yet. He looks at Dejun to see if he’ll say something, but it looks like he’s also trying to find the right words to answer. 

They haven't really talked about ‘what they were’ after they left that band room. And neither of them saw the need to either. It’s only been around one week—and that week wasn't all too different from how they were before. 

The only things which have changed is that they sleep on the same (makeshift) bed every night, are clinger, and share a multitude of face kisses. Nothing on the lips yet… Guanheng is hoping he can be the first to initiate it though. 

“Well,” he starts once he realizes Dejun isn’t going to answer anytime soon. Which is fine, and he lets the other know that by squeezing his clothed thigh lightly. “We’re not dating. We just… Like each other.”

He finishes with a grin, sharing it with Dejun when he looks up at him again from under his eyelashes just to smile at him, despite the confusion on their friends' faces. 

“There’s no rush,” Dejun adds, shy fingers grabbing the back of Guanheng’s hand on his thigh before he turns to face their friends. “Absolutely no rush…”

Guanheng is smiling at Dejun, so he doesn’t see the way Mark and Yangyang fake gag at their words. Not that he minds—he doesn’t want to look at anything other than Dejun’s pretty smile anyways.  
  


»«

  
  
  


As the December chill starts to set into the wind outside, it also starts to seep through the walls of their apartment. 

It bothers Mark the least, who says it reminds him of Canada, and then spends hours in front of the balcony window, either staring outside as the snow falls, or doing his homework under a thick blanket. 

And it bothers Dejun the most, who whines every time he has to pull a pair of socks onto his feet before stepping into his slippers, claiming his toes will freeze off if he doesn’t take the extra precaution. 

“No, I’m not going with you,” Dejun groans for the nth time, somewhere in the living room while Guanheng makes a sandwich in the kitchen. He’s only been in here for ten minutes, but he’s already heard Dejun repeat the same thing tens of times. 

“Come on, Little Jun! If you skip one day you’re gonna be tempted to skip the rest,” Yukhei explains, and Guanheng can imagine him using puppy dog eyes. 

“No. It’s cold, you weirdo! Why are  _ you  _ even going outside in this weather? Stay home!” Dejun scolds, and it makes Guanheng snicker. He’s glad he’s in the kitchen alone so that no one catches that. Mark had already left to visit his friends in the year below. 

“Dude, you see these?” Yukhei asks, and Guanheng doesn’t even have to be looking to know that he’s pointing to his arms. “These didn’t come out of nowhere! I gotta maintain them, and so should you!” he insists, but Guanheng knows it’s moot. 

Which is why he shows himself now, walking into the scene in the living room of Dejun sprawled along the couch wrapped in a blanket, looking tiny and ridiculous with Yukhei’s larger frame hammering at him from above. 

“Don’t break a sweat here before you even make it to the gym,” Guanheng snorts, shoving Dejun’s feet aside at one end of the couch so that he can take a seat, carefully situating his plate right after. He can’t stop Dejun from propping his feet back onto his lap though, so he just lets him. 

“You know, life has been getting pretty unbearable ever since you two started teaming up against me,” Yukhei sulks, his eyes accusatory when they look at Guanheng. “What happened to bros before hoes!”

“I’m not a hoe!” Dejun immediately intervenes, scowling as he does so. “And mind you, I’m the one who’s been Heng’s bro since primary school!” 

Yukhei doesn’t seem to have a comeback for that, so he simply glares at Dejun too before turning on his heel and half-heartedly letting them know he’ll be at the gym for the next two or so hours. He picks up his gym bag and steps into his shoes before announcing his leave, locking the door behind him and leaving Guanheng and Dejun in silence. 

“You’re not my bro anymore,” Guanheng says once Yukhei is gone, biting into one half of his sandwich. It tastes amazing—he thinks sandwiches are the only thing which he  _ can’t _ mess up in the kitchen. “You’re my hoe now. My main hoe.”

“Shut up,” Dejun groans, wiggling his sock clad foot against Guanheng’s ribs.

It makes the younger squawk, and then his arm go to cover his torso protectively. 

“Dude! Not when I’m eating!” he scolds, only to receive a scoff from Dejun.

Now that he looks at him, Dejun does look terribly small right now. His head is propped up by a throw pillow, but other than that, his brown bangs fall into his eyes and his glasses, while the grey blanket he’s using is up to his chin. He’s swimming in the fabric, but he looks warm. In turn, Guanheng guesses the sight makes him feel warm too. 

“Really? You’re gonna call me  _ dude?  _ After everything we’ve been through?” Dejun asks dramatically, sniffling at the end for effect. 

“Just let a man eat in peace,” Guanheng whines, only to receive Dejun immediately shaking his head. “Okay fine! What do you want, you brat?”

“Gimme half,” Dejun says right after, nodding towards the other, yet to be eaten half of Guanheng’s sandwich. 

“Jun~ I just made it!” Guanheng whines again, looking over at Dejun with puppy dog eyes—it has to work, doesn’t it? Dejun said himself that Guanheng was cute and that it was fatal, shouldn’t it work in his favour now?

“If you liked me you wouldn’t think twice about it,” Dejun sulks, and it makes Guanheng sigh. 

Of course he likes Dejun. And he can’t believe Dejun is going to exploit that fact. 

“You’re awful,” he mutters, handing over his plate with the remaining half sandwich on it. He watches as Dejun accepts it happily, and then immediately takes a bite. He’s deaf to the compliments Dejun gives, because he’s too busy mourning the loss. “The absolute worst. This might’ve been the sandwich I’ve ever made, you know.”

“And now you have a witness who can attest to that,” Dejun easily says, looking pleased as he takes another bite. 

Guanheng would scowl if Dejun didn’t look so cute when he ate. Life was terribly unfair like that. 

“I hate you,” he settles on pouting, and all Dejun does is roll his eyes, and poke at under Guanheng’s ribs again with his foot. 

“You do not. I’m your favourite,” he says smugly, and who is Guanheng to deny that when it’s completely, one hundred percent true? 

“I think I liked you better when you weren’t this comfortable poking fun at me,” Guanheng sulks, and this time, Dejun puts the plate on the coffee table in front of them before hauling himself up, legs thrown across Guanheng’s lap and arms encircling one of the younger’s own. “Don’t try being cute—that won’t get you anywhere!”

“But it’s gotten me here so far,” Dejun challenges, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised cockily. He’s so  _ handsome  _ that it makes Guanheng upset. Was that a normal reaction towards beautiful people? 

“You’re exploiting how much I like you,” Guanheng pouts again, and it makes Dejun laugh. Oh, Dejun has such a beautiful laugh. It might just be one of Guanheng’s most favourite sounds in the world. 

“Say it again,” Dejun requests, perching his chin onto Guanheng’s shoulder and looking up at him gently. He looks so  _ pretty  _ looking up at him from under his long eyelashes, and Guanheng can’t think of anything else for the next few seconds. 

“Say what again? That you’re exploiting me?” he scoffs, and it only makes Dejun laugh again.

“No—tell me you like me again,” he clarifies, this time speaking softer, with the tiniest blush crawling onto the highs of his cheeks. “I like hearing it.” 

Guanheng doesn’t know what it is, but something inside of him softens at Dejun’s innocent words. If Dejun wanted to hear Guanheng tell him he liked him tens of thousands of times a day, then he was ready to start saying it. 

Maybe he should tell Dejun that he doesn’t even think  _ like  _ covers how he feels about him anymore—but that could be a topic for another day. 

Like Dejun said, there’s no rush, and Guanheng wasn’t keen on scaring him this early on either. He’s not too sure if Dejun’s even on the same page as him as far as feelings beyond  _ like  _ go, so he knows it’ll be smarter to keep his mouth shut for now. 

“I like you a lot,” Guanheng says softly, smiling when he sees Dejun’s cheeks darken with his spreading blush. “I think I always have. My best friend, who I still like even after having him puke all over my shoes,” he snickers, effectively bringing humour back into their delicate atmosphere. 

“Stop bringing that up! You do this every time I try to have a moment!” Dejun whines, but he’s laughing, and Guanheng knows he doesn’t mean it. 

“ _ A moment _ ? Every moment spent with you is  _ a moment _ ,” Guanheng says smugly, and it makes Dejun roll his eyes. He does that a lot, towards Guanheng more often than not, and the latter believes that’s part of the reason why Dejun needs to wear glasses. 

“Sappy,” he mutters, but his lips are still curved up into a smile, so Guanheng takes it as a win. “But I guess… My sap?” he adds tentatively, peeking up from under his eyelashes like he always does, like Guanheng  _ adores.  _

“Of course,” he says back, just as quiet. “All yours.”

Dejun hums then, pleased and looking terribly happy. It makes a warm feeling settle in Guanheng’s chest and tummy, and if someone stuck a thermometer in his ear right now, he’s sure it’d say he’s burning up. 

“Get that look off of your face,” Guanheng says instead, expressing his mushy feelings in one of the only ways he knows. “You look too happy to see me. So obsessed with me, really,” he scoffs, and it just makes Dejun hum again. 

“Heng,” he calls, lifting his head up properly and moving off of his shoulder. Guanheng kind of misses the warmth, but he doesn’t mind when now Dejun’s full face is in front of his. “Can I kiss you?” 

Guanheng would laugh at himself for how he freezes if it wasn’t  _ himself.  _ He was the one who was supposed to make the first move—and now Dejun is looking at him with sparkling eyes, which seem to dim every second he lets slip without an answer. 

“Too soon?” he croaks out awkwardly when ten seconds of silence have passed by. 

Guanheng wants to kick himself. 

“N-No! I just wasn’t expecting you to ask…  _ I  _ was supposed to ask first,” Guanheng explains, and the reasoning sounds lame even to his own ears. 

In an attempt to distract himself, Guanheng brings a hand down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, but is instead met with Dejun’s knee. He had momentarily forgotten that the other’s legs are still sprawled over his lap, but he lets them be and runs his hand up and Dejun’s leg to get rid of his own nerves. 

“Says who?” Dejun asks amusedly, clearly no longer worried, but instead finding Guanheng’s sudden shyness entertaining. 

“Says me! I’m a man! I was going to sweep you off your feet!” he answers, and it makes Dejun laugh out loud, cackling. His eyes are closed and his nose scrunches up, and Guanheng thinks it’s the prettiest sight in the world. 

“Well, I am off my feet, aren't I?” Dejun asks, raising an eyebrow when he catches Guanheng’s eye. “You can ask me—I’m waiting.”

Maybe Guanheng is imagining it, but he thinks he can feel Dejun’s heartbeat. They’re not even pressed together at the chest, but it’s either his own heartbeat or Dejun’s which he’s hearing in his ears, and feeling in his fingertips. Either way, Guanheng’s hand finds its way up from Dejun’s knee to his hair, brushing some of his bangs away and out from his eyes. 

“You wanna kiss me so bad,” he breathes out and while he was trying to be funny, neither of them laugh. 

Instead, Guanheng feels entranced by the way Dejun’s eyes flutter when he blinks, and the way his lips look after he darts his tongue out to wet them a little. 

“I do,” Dejun ends up agreeing, nodding his head just a tiny bit as to not jostle Guanheng’s hand, which has ended up cupping his cheek. “And you… Do you?”

Guanheng doesn’t answer right away, and it might be because he can’t stop staring at Dejun’s gorgeous, pink, pretty lips. They’re so  _ kissable _ , and they’re right there too. 

So while he tries to find his words, he lets the hand on the arm which Dejun is still wrapped around wriggle free, until he can grab onto one of Dejun’s hands with ease. Once again, he doesn’t mean to be cheesy, but their fingers fit together perfectly, and it has Guanheng’s heart beating faster than it ever had before. 

“Can I kiss you, Dejun?” he finally whispers, gulping when Dejun immediately nods. 

Guanheng can feel Dejun give their hands a squeeze, and then he sees the older boy’s eyes fall shut, his eyelashes kissing the highs of his cheeks, and his lips looking even more inviting. 

Guanheng has kissed people before, and so has Dejun. So he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous about kissing him, but he guesses it must be because Dejun is, well,  _ Dejun.  _ He’s special to Guanheng, more special than anyone else he’s known.

He knows everything about Dejun; secrets, habits, vulnerabilities and all of that. And now, he was about to know what it was like to kiss him too. 

Indeed, Dejun is Guanheng’s special someone. 

Which is why he doesn’t keep someone as special as Dejun waiting, so he leans in and presses their lips together in what might be the softest kiss he’s ever experienced. 

What Guanheng is shy about, Dejun makes up for. The latter kisses him back immediately, tilting his head to one side and moulding their lips together better, to the point where it feels like they fit like puzzle pieces. 

And Guanheng loves it. 

He loves kissing Dejun. 

But he also loves oxygen, and it’s the unfair need to breathe which causes him to pull away first, panting and opening his eyes (when did they fall shut?) just in time to see Dejun blindly chase his lips. When he meets nothing but air, he opens his eyes slowly with a rosy blush on his cheeks, and meets Guanheng’s equally as rosy face. 

“Wow,” is all Dejun mutters, mouth slightly agape and palm starting to become sweaty where it’s still against Guanheng’s. 

“Yeah,” is all the younger breathes out, his eyes darting down to Dejun’s lips once more. 

He sees the older boy do the same.

“Wow.”

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


Four days before the new year, Guanheng walks into their apartment with bags from the convenience store a block over. 

“When did you even go outside?” Dejun asks when he sees Guanheng shake his hair free from the beanie it had been under during his time outside. “And why did you go outside in this weather?” 

Guanheng doesn’t answer right away, too busy stomping snow off of his boots before he steps off of the mat in the foyer. 

“Not all of us can be homebodies like you,” he sighs when he finally walks deeper into the apartment, jacket having been hung up and hair messy from his hat. “We were running low on snacks.”

Guanheng passes Dejun the bag before he goes to change into house clothes, and Dejun happily sifts through the contents of the bag while he waits for Guanheng to come back. 

There are a multitude of snacks which Mark and Yukhei like, and if Dejun notices that there’s more of the snacks that  _ he  _ likes, he won’t say a word to his other roommates. They’re both gone anyways—Mark had hopped onto a flight back to Vancouver for the winter holidays, and Yukhei had gone back over to China for the next two weeks.

“This isn’t a snack,” Dejun says once he hears Guanheng’s footsteps approaching again, shaking a box in his hand. The younger comes to a stop right in front of him, before taking a seat on the chair across from him. 

“I mean you  _ could _ —I just wouldn’t suggest it,” Guanheng shrugs, and it makes Dejun snicker. 

“Honestly though, what’s it for?” 

Guanheng shrugs again, and he takes the box from Dejun’s hands. He looks it over, reads a few labels, and then grins. 

“Dunno. I’m a bit bored,” he answers easily, opening the box and pouring its contents all over the table between them. “You can help me!”

“Melt your hair off? No thank you,” Dejun rejects, wrinkling his nose when his eyes roam over the contents. “You’re so impulsive.”

“It’s my charm,” Guanheng assures, winking and then looking back down to read the instructions he had unfolded. “C’mon Jun, it’ll be fun! It’s not like  _ you’re  _ gonna lose anything anyways.”

“I’m gonna lose my eye candy! You can’t be my eye candy if you’re bald!” Dejun argues, and it makes Guanheng gasp, scowling. 

“And when we’re sixty? You won’t want me then because I’ll be bald?” he asks, scandalized.

“When we’re sixty, I’ll let you know,” the other says smugly, having his eyes roam over everything on the table, and then Guanheng’s face again. He looks him directly in the eye as he says, “Still no.” 

“Please baby?” Guanheng asks again, lilting his voice and using a pet name because he  _ knows  _ what it does to Dejun. That much shows when Dejun is immediately unable to look at Guanheng’s face for longer than one second.

“ _ Do not  _ start pulling that bullshit,” Dejun spits, crossing his arms over his chest and looking terribly  _ tiny.  _ Guanheng loves it. He’s pretty sure that’s his sweater too—Dejun has always robbed his closet, but it makes Guanheng feel different when he does it now. 

Dejun looks great in his clothes. 

“Baby please,” Guanheng whines again, going the extra mile just to hold Dejun’s hands between his. He even pulls out the puppy dog eyes. “For me?”

Dejun is glaring at him, but when Guanheng pushes his lips out in an exaggerated pout, he sees the corner of Dejun’s lips pull into a smile.

It seems like he always wins.

“Okay fine!” Dejun finally snaps, and it makes Guanheng pump his fists into the air victoriously. “Just get that ugly look off of your face!”

Guanheng laughs, scoops up everything they’ve discarded onto the table, and then urges Dejun to follow him.

“Come on, come on, change into something you don’t mind permanently staining,” he says over his shoulder as he scurries to the bathroom, and he vaguely hears Dejun grumbling from behind him. 

“This is your hoodie anyways, I really don’t mind staining it,” Dejun assures. 

Dejun occupies himself by reading the instructions while Guanheng gets changed again, rereading them over and over again to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. While he doesn’t necessarily  _ condone _ , he can’t tell Guanheng what to do. What he can do though, is make sure his eye candy doesn’t lose all his hair—that wouldn’t be ideal for either of them. 

“Okay so,” he starts, looking around the counter and spotting that Guanheng had already brought over all the needed materials. “This will probably take a while.”

“Mhm,” the other hums, looking up at Dejun with sparkling eyes from where he’s sitting on the closed toilet lid. He looks like he trusts Dejun too much with this, and the latter suddenly feels all the pressure.

“Okay,” Dejun nods, putting on the protective gloves which were still in the box. “Tell me if I get some into your eyes or something.” 

“Are you planning on getting bleach into my eyes?” Guanheng asks wearily, and then cocks an eyebrow when Dejun shrugs. 

“Anything can happen babe.”

But nothing does happen, except for Dejun getting a small stain on the hem of Guanheng’s hoodie. The latter doesn’t mind though, so Dejun doesn’t make a big deal out of it. 

“You look like an alien,” Dejun snickers from where he’s sitting on the counter, watching as Guanheng cleans everything up. He had insisted on doing so after Dejun had wrapped the final plastic around his hair. Now they were just playing the waiting game. 

“I bet I still look more handsome than you,” Guanheng sniffs, and Dejun does nothing except knock his foot into his hip. He does that a lot. Guanheng thinks it’s cute.

“C’mere,” Dejun suddenly says, catching Guanheng by the waist with his leg, wrapping the limb around his middle and effectively pulling Guanheng closer until he was standing in front of a still seated Dejun. “What if you regret it?”

“You’re asking me this  _ after  _ you bleached my whole head?” Guanheng asks, and Dejun just shrugs. His legs are open on either side of Guanheng to accommodate the later, and his hands start playing with the bottom of Guanheng’s t-shirt. 

“I’m just  _ saying _ . What  _ if _ ,” he clarifies, and this time, Guanheng shrugs. He braces a hand on either side of Dejun, leveling their eyes. 

“Then you can choose what colour I’ll dye it,” he answers, and it makes an amused grin pop onto Dejun’s face. 

“Don’t you trust me too much?”

“I trust you the most. Always have.”

“Sap,” Dejun scoffs, a blush evidently growing on his cheeks. “Would you consider pink?” 

“ _ Duh _ .”

In the end, their bathroom smells horribly like bleach as chemicals, and it makes Dejun scrunch his nose. 

“It’ll air out,” Dejun assures himself, finally stepping out of the bathroom as he lets Guanheng rinse the bleach out of his hair, and shower.

It’s quiet because they’re the only two around, but the sounds of the running water makes the apartment peaceful. 

Dejun walks back to their room and changes into a shirt which isn’t soaked in the stench of bleach, and then grabs his guitar with the intention to fool around for a few minutes while he waits for Guanheng. 

That’s how Guanheng finds him, with his back facing the door, guitar across his lap, and melodious voice singing some Bruno Mars song about the moon. Dejun sings a lot of Bruno Mars, and Guanheng falls even more in love every time he hears the sappy lyrics spill from the other’s lips. 

He tries to be quiet as he makes his way into their room, footsteps light and breathing almost inaudible. 

Dejun doesn’t notice him, immersed into his song and music. Guanheng thinks it’s beautiful. 

Guanheng thinks  _ he’s  _ beautiful.

As Dejun draws a note out, Guanheng slips his arms around his shoulders from behind, feeling Dejun tense for half a second before relaxing in his arms. 

“How do you look?” Dejun asks, leaning back just a little against Guanheng’s chest, and letting his fingers mindlessly strum a few chords. 

“Forget how I look,” Guanheng scoffs, bringing his head a bit forward and knocking his forehead into Dejun’s ear. “Your voice is beautiful.”

Dejun clicks his tongue, but from this close, Guanheng can  _ feel _ how his cheeks heat up. Dejun blushes so easily, and it’s truly the most endearing part about him. 

“I spent over an hour on that hair, let me see how you look,” Dejun mutters, removing his guitar from his lap and laying it flat against the bed. 

He turns around after that, expecting to finally set his eyes on Guanheng’s new hair, but instead his lips are captured in a kiss the second he’s facing Guanheng. 

Not that he complains, Dejun’s new favourite hobby is kissing Guanheng. He relishes in the way their lips slide together like they were meant to, and feels his heartbeat speed up when Guanheng cups his cheek, running his thumb under his eye. 

It makes Dejun feel all of the other’s emotions, and it makes him feel… Special. 

Important. 

“Lemme see,” Dejun whines when their lips part for a moment to breathe. The older boy’s eyes flutter open slowly, but he doesn’t get a full view of Guanheng’s hair before the latter’s lips kiss the corner of his mouth, moving up to his cheeks and then down to his jaw again. “Stop kissing me—And let me look! It can’t be that bad, can it?”

Guanheng chuckles against his skin, Dejun suppresses how it makes him feel, and then finally pulls back far enough so that Dejun can look at his entire head. 

And he’s speechless. 

The toner, which Guanheng had bought at the last minute without even knowing what it did, had worked like magic. It seems like Guanheng had also blow dried his hair, since it sits fluffy and light on top of his head. The colour is really light compared to his dark eyebrows, but somehow, Guanheng makes it work. 

“Whoa…” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away. He’s sure his mouth is hanging open, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Guanheng looks so…  _ Stunning  _ in front of him. “You’re so handsome.”

“Why thank you JunJun,” Guanheng smiles, leaning down once more to peck Dejun’s lips, and then flopping down onto the bed. He rests his head on a pillow, and lays on his back as he looks at the ceiling. “Compliment me more.”

“Shut up,” Dejun tsks, moving his guitar and propping it back onto its stand. He joins Guanheng on their bed again after, under the blankets while Guanheng lays on top of them. He’s scrolling through his phone, so Dejun uses his distracted state to card his fingers through his freshly washed hair. “How is it still so soft?”

It’s a question muttered more to himself than to Guanheng, but Guanheng still answers. 

“Because you did a wonderful job with reading all the instructions,” he says immediately, and it makes Dejun blush. They’re simple words, but simple words will always mean more to him when they’re coming from Guanheng. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Dejun admits, the strands of Guanheng’s hair smooth as they slip between his fingers. “You look really good blond.”

“For someone who was against this not even six hours ago, you sure are laying it on thick,” Guanheng snorts, but his eyes are still focused on some game about watermelons. Dejun hasn’t played it yet, but everyone else in their friend group seems to have. 

“I can’t help that you look good,” Dejun scoffs, and he wonders if Guanheng will get a haircut soon. His hair is a bit long, but Dejun thinks it suits him. Maybe it’s even long enough to braid. 

“You really like it that much?” the other asks, sparing Dejun a small glance before turning back to his screen.

“Mhm, I do,” he nods, brushing Guanheng’s bangs out of his eyes. “I love it. I love y—”

Dejun isn’t sure who freezes first, because the second he cuts himself off is the same second Guanheng’s thumbs freeze across his screen. 

And maybe Dejun is too scared to look at Guanheng’s face after that, which is why his hand falls from the other’s hair, and he clears his throat awkwardly. 

Maybe they could just move on like nothing happened?

But that doesn’t seem to be where Guanheng’s mind is going, since he just drops his phone and immediately turns around to face Dejun. He moved too fast for Dejun to turn away, and he feels just a little trapped when Guanheng gently cups his face. 

His eyes are sparkling, and they look excited. Dejun thinks he looks stunning like this, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still feel like he was about to explode. 

How was Guanheng going to look at him like that and then expect Dejun to  _ not  _ love him?

“Say it,” Guanheng whispers, nodding his head reassuringly. “Tell me Dejun. Tell me how you feel about me.”

It’s something  _ scary _ , to say the three words out loud. Dejun isn’t too sure why, because he’s done scarier things than this with Guanheng before. When they were fifteen they went on a slingshot ride at the amusement park, and not even a year ago they went bungee jumping together too. 

Dejun has faced a lot of his fears with Guanheng by his side. 

Maybe this can be another one he conquers with Guanheng by his side. 

“Will you tell me how you feel about me too?” he still asks, just to be sure. Because his heart was a fickle thing, and he’s sure Guanheng’s is too. It would be better if they did this together, anyways. They’re always better together. 

When Guanheng nods his head with a promise in his eyes, Dejun doesn’t know if it’s nonverbal confirmation about his feelings or not. He decides that the only way to find out was to, as it is, be verbal. 

“I love you,” Dejun says softly, willing himself to meet Guanheng’s eyes because this was a special moment. He’s said he loves Guanheng before—but never like this. Never after spending countless nights tangled together, never after spending hours kissing the breath out of each other, never after spending simple time next to Guanheng which still made his heart race. “I’ve fallen in love with you.” 

“In love?” Guanheng repeats, a murmured repetition which doesn’t sound like as much of a question as he’s letting on. “With me?”

Guanheng’s thumb is doing that thing which unreleases a stupid amount of butterflies in Dejun’s tummy, running his thumb right under his eye and looking at him like he’s made of the most precious glass. 

“Who else is here?” Dejun retorts, but the shakiness of his voice diminishes any bite in his tone. 

He thinks Guanheng can pick up on his nervousness though, since he leans his head just the tiniest bit closer, kisses the corner of his mouth, and doesn’t move too far away right after. 

“I love you too,” he easily admits, voice equally as soft. They’re just four words, but Dejun feels like they’re the most important words he’s ever heard in his life. “I’m in love with you, Dejun.” 

And then, Dejun smiles. 

It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, knowing his feelings are reciprocated. Knowing that the person he loves  _ loves  _ him back is something he didn’t know he’d ever feel, especially not with his track record when it comes to relationships, and  _ especially  _ not with Guanheng. 

But it feels so right to hear Guanheng say those words, and it feels even more right to tuck them away into the safest parts of his heart and brain. 

“Good to know,” Dejun says contently, and it makes Guanheng smile bright. Maybe Dejun’s smile was just contagious like that. 

“You’re so annoying,” Guanheng snorts, and it makes Dejun giggle. 

Dejun doesn’t care if he’s annoying—Guanheng loves him either way.

“You love it,”

Guanheng raises an eyebrow, and then lets out a small disbelieving chuckle. He pulls Dejun’s face a bit closer with the hand he still has cupping his face, and now their lips are almost touching. 

“I do. I love it.”

Guanheng kisses him, and Dejun loves it. 

Dejun loves him. 

  
  
  


»«

  
  
  


Courage crawls up Guanheng’s throat on a random Thursday afternoon, when the snow is falling softly outside, and the cold air has enough bite to slice skin. 

But he and Dejun are inside the warmth and protection of the band room, and this time, they’re actually doing work.

Or at least, Guanheng is doing work. He has his laptop open in front of him with way too many active tabs, and his eyes roam around the articles he’s reading until words blur into one and he has no idea what he’s reading anymore. 

Dejun isn't as stressed, always being the more productive one between the two of them. He’s just playing songs on a guitar, sometimes singing the lyrics under his breath, but mainly just humming whatever he wants. 

Which is mainly Bruno Mars, not to his surprise. 

“Dejun,” he calls out of nowhere, abruptly snapping his laptop shut so that he doesn’t get lured back into the vicious cycle of working when he looks at his assignment again.

The sound Guanheng’s laptop makes causes Dejun to jump, his shoulders practically at his ears before he turns around slowly to look at Guanheng. 

“Was I distracting you?” he asks meekly, eyes wide with worry. “Sorry—I’ll be quieter,” he tacks on, and it makes Guanheng sigh.

“No, no—you sound lovely,” he assures, patting the spot next to him on the little couch he’s sitting on. Thankfully, Dejun hops up from his own seat to accompany him, but not before putting the guitar away where he had found it. “Aw~ I was gonna ask you to play me something,” Guanheng pouts. 

“I am not your jukebox,” Dejun huffs with faux annoyance, plopping himself down next to Guanheng. “Are you done with your assignment?” he asks, eyeing the shut laptop. 

“Nope,” he answers easily, popping the  _ p  _ and ignoring the deadpan look Dejun sends him. “Anyways, come closer.”

“You should finish it now. You’re going to forget about it later,” Dejun says matter of factly, not putting up a fight when Guanheng pulls him closer by the arm, until Dejun is practically on his lap. But he didn’t mind—he loves having Dejun close. 

“I will not forget. I promise,” Guanheng says, wrapping both his arms around Dejun and hugging him tight. 

Dejun always fit perfectly in his arms, and Guanheng was never going to get tired of the feeling. If Dejun could live between his arms forever, Guanheng would find a way to make it happen.

“You say that now, and then you’re going to stay up until 2:00 am the night before it’s due,” Dejun presses, and Guanheng would argue if he hadn’t done that exact many times before. “And then, your vision will become worse than mine, and you’ll have to wear glasses. Just like me.”

“You look great in glasses,” Guanheng comments, and has to suppress his smile when Dejun looks at him incredulously. 

“Were you listening to anything I was saying?” 

“I was—honestly!” Guanheng assures when Dejun lifts an eyebrow. “But I can’t help that you look so cute right now.”

Dejun was indeed wearing his glasses, the round frames setting pretty on the bridge of his nose and making him look all smart and lovely. Or maybe Guanheng was glorifying every little thing about Dejun because he was still in the honeymoon phase despite having known Dejun his whole life. And honestly, he’s not even mad at himself about that. Just the fact that he can still find things about Dejun which render him useless and weak after being his friend for over a decade speaks volumes on its own.

“You're ridiculous,” Dejun sniffs, and it seems to be his favourite nickname for Guanheng. “Did you stop working so that you could sweet talk me?” 

“Actually,” Guanheng perks up, catching Dejun’s eyes and keeping his attention on him with the way he grabs one of his hands. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

Guanheng had surprised himself when he found out that he and Dejun haven’t gone out on an official date yet. Which was honestly just a bit appalling when he considered how much time they spend together. No matter how hard he thinks about it though, it seems like they’ve never officially called any of their hang outs a  _ date.  _

And he’d like to change that. Today preferably. More specifically, right now. 

“Date?” Dejun repeats in a whisper, and by the looks of it, and by how well Guanheng knows him, he looks like he’s at a loss of words. “W-With you?”

“Well, you are my boyfriend, aren’t you?” Guanheng asks back, cocking up an eyebrow and letting an amused glint sparkle in his eyes.

But it disappears when silence consumes the space between the two of them, until it’s so quiet, Guanheng is sure you could hear a pin drop.

“… Boyfriend?” Dejun repeats, this time his voice smaller than Guanheng had ever heard it. 

It confuses Guanheng for all of two seconds before he realizes they’ve never asked each other to be their boyfriend. God, they weren’t doing this the right way were they… Was there even a right way? Were they even doing this in the right order?  _ Was  _ there a right order?

Probably not. 

“I-I mean,” Guanheng stutters, sitting up straight suddenly and adjusting himself. He does so whenever he’s nervous, and he’s sure Dejun is able to pick up on that, for all of two reasons. Firstly, because Dejun knows everything about him, that’s a given, and secondly, because Dejun himself sits up straighter, and his palm starts sweating against his own. “You don’t  _ have  _ to be.”

Guanheng doesn’t know if that was the right thing to say, especially when Dejun laughs awkwardly. 

“Oh,” Dejun says, and Guanheng can’t help but pick up on the dejection in his tone. He looks a bit nervous when he finally finds Guanheng’s eyes again, so Guanheng doesn’t look away no matter how intimidating the eye contact is. “D-Do you not want to be…?”

“No!” Guanheng says immediately, afraid Dejun is getting the wrong idea. But it seems he didn’t word it properly, because now Dejun is biting his bottom lip, and  _ not  _ in the sexy way, but rather the way that tells he’s  _ embarrassed.  _ “Wait—that’s not what I meant. Yes, yes I do, but do  _ you _ ?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dejun says quickly, as if he couldn’t stop his mouth from speaking. Guanheng can relate. 

He’s suddenly unable to meet Guanheng’s eyes after asking, and while Guanheng would find it cute in any other circumstance, he kind of wants to see Dejun’s eyes as they talk about this. 

“Hey,” he starts, softly, so they can establish their calm and comfortable atmosphere once more. He also tugs a bit on their hands which are still together, but when that doesn’t garner a reaction from Dejun, Guanheng laces their fingers together instead. “Dejun, baby, look at me.”

And so he does, with big eyes and pink cheeks, and Guanheng is so _ in love  _ with him. 

“I wanna be your boyfriend. Of course I do. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to go there yet, since y’know… There's no rush,” he explains gently, finishing with a sheepish shrug. 

Guanheng isn’t one for labels—he still doesn’t even know which pride flag he wants to set as his Twitter header—but walking around with Dejun and being  _ boyfriends  _ is a bit different. 

There’s no sense of insecurity in their relationship, they already told each other they love the other, and Guanheng knows that the words hold meaning. He didn’t give being official  _ boyfriends  _ any thought, but it had just slipped out today.

And honestly, he doesn’t hate the way it sounds. 

Dejun being his  _ boyfriend.  _

Guanheng being Dejun’s boyfriend. 

When he puts it like that, he likes the sound of it  _ a lot.  _

“There  _ is  _ no rush,” Dejun agrees, finally meeting his eyes with the confidence Guanheng loves to see in him. He looks determined, and while he looks adorable while being so, Guanheng also thinks he looks admirable. 

There’s so many things he loves about Dejun. And he hopes he has the rest of time to slowly show him each precious thing he adores, one by one. 

“But you said it yourself,” Dejun continues, his free hand coming up to tuck some hair behind Guanheng’s ear. The latter had discussed getting a haircut soon, but Dejun had gotten protective over how much he liked his long hair. Maybe he’ll let it grow out, since he likes the feeling of dejun tucking it behind his ear. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. And I feel like if that’s where we are, it’s only right for everyone to know I’ve claimed my boy.”

Guanheng grins, unable to help himself when he hears Dejun’s words. 

“Your boy?” he repeats, knocking their foreheads together because Dejun is  _ beautiful,  _ stunning when he blushes, and even prettier when he has to look at Guanheng from beneath his eyelashes because of their close proximity. 

“Mhm,” Dejun nods, just lightly, since their foreheads are still touching. “I love you Heng. Will you be my boyfriend?”

Once again, Guanheng wanted to be the first one to ask. But he truly can’t be upset about Dejun once again stealing his spotlight, because he feels like he’s about to melt into a puddle on the floor. There’s no reason for his heart to be beating as fast as it is since they’ve already become so used to each other after  _ years _ , but he can’t help it. 

Guanheng can never help himself when he’s with Dejun. 

“I’d love to be your boyfriend,” he answers quietly, locking eyes with Dejun long enough just to see his smile reach them, and then he zeroes in on Dejun’s lips. “And I love you.” 

Guanheng leans in, kisses Dejun, and his head starts spinning. 

His heart starts thumping, and his skin starts flushing with a red colour. 

Dejun giggles between their kisses,  _ happy _ , and it makes Guanheng kiss him harder. 

Happy. 

He too, is so,  _ so _ happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> don’t be shy i’d love to know what you think :)  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/doieglamour?s=21) and [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/DOIEGLAMOUR)


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